


and i call to you, but i don't call soft enough

by seven_of_cups



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adventure, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Drama & Romance, F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship, Gen, Not A Fix-It, Post-Episode: 2015 Xmas The Husbands of River Song, Post-Episode: 2018 New Year's Resolution (Doctor Who), Romance, Slow Burn, because they're all so important!, but that might change, edit: the background story is no longer a background story, edit: the fam FINALLY learns things about the doctor, for now it's, i try to make sure everyone gets a voice and is developed as a character, the doctor's just a gay disaster, well kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22024285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seven_of_cups/pseuds/seven_of_cups
Summary: It was entirely unfathomably ridiculous that the only time she couldn’t run away was in the one place that held the ineffable River Song. It made her want to laugh and cry because the one thing she’d always been good at when it came to River was leaving before it started to hurt.
Relationships: The Doctor/River Song, Thirteenth Doctor/River Song
Comments: 157
Kudos: 605





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by one little moment in my head, and it ballooned into a whole thing. So we'll see where it goes! I have it mostly planned out it's just the actually sit down and writing it part that's difficult. I have multiple chapters pre-written so the wait between chapters shouldn't be ridiculous. Find me on tumblr at missywhomst !

The times when the Doctor was in immediate mortal danger were the ones when she usually felt most alive, all those neurons in her brain settling into familiar patterns, the world around her slowing. That was something she’d always been good at, making rapid deductions in high stress situations. For instance, the lever that sent them into the vortex had just exploded, raining sparks down on them. Under normal circumstances, that would probably mean they’d tried to take off and the door hadn’t engaged properly. It had happened before. But combined with the purple smoke that was spilling out from under the console, the Doctor was fairly certain the Venairies that had been chasing them had damaged the TARDIS’s space travel circuits. It was hard to see because the TARDIS was being knocked around inside the vortex, and she was rather worried about Graham and Yaz and Ryan. Yaz not so much but Graham was older and Ryan’s dyspraxia wouldn’t let him catch himself properly when they were being thrown around. 

“Doctor, what’s happening?” Yaz yelled as she grabbed onto the console, trying to right herself. The Doctor ran around to the sparking panel, sliding on the floor, and caught herself just in time to throw the lever again, just to see, just to try. All it did was make the cloister bells sound off, and a pit settled in the Doctor’s stomach. 

“Okay. Okay, it’s fine. We’re fine. Just gotta…” she ran around to the other side and started pressing buttons that might help, grabbing onto the monitor to see if she was actually doing anything productive. All the TARDIS was giving her were error messages. 

“Are they still shooting at us?” Graham yelled from the floor next to Ryan, holding himself steady as the TARDIS threw them at nearly a 45 degree angle. The Doctor clipped her ankle under the console, hit her head on the edge, and held on for dear life. This really wasn’t fun anymore. 

“No, it’s…” she winced, groaning as she pulled herself to her feet, “the TARDIS. Traveling in the vortex is rough enough, but when she’s damaged it’s like being in a row boat instead of a cruiseliner,” she yelled, examining the control panels, trying to figure out what she could do to stabilize them. 

“So just land somewhere!” Ryan called, looking a bit seasick. “They can’t follow us once we’re in the vortex or whatever, right?” The Doctor winced. 

“Yeah, but I can’t land! They took out the space travel circuits!” she yelled, starting to get a bit worried, panting as she made calculations in her head. It was one of those rare moments she wished she’d either paid more attention in flight school or hadn’t thrown the TARDIS manual into a supernova. She groaned, and it turned into a panicked, frustrated yell as she threw switches and eyed the damage. “If I could reroute the power to the emergency grounding circuits then I might be able to get us out of the vortex, but I’d need to be able to coordinate a landing on a specific planet without knowing anything about where or when we are,” she reasoned, not talking to any of them, not even looking at them. Their fear would throw off her focus, and if she was worried about them she couldn’t be worried about landing the TARDIS. The panel in front of her sparked, and she jumped back. The cloisters were tolling, but she was too busy to listen to what the TARDIS was trying to say. “I know, I know. I’m trying,” she breathed, turning to the time travel circuits. “If I could just latch onto a timezone, I could focus on the physical landing,” she muttered, her head buzzing with the telepathic nudging of the TARDIS. 

Things were sparking under the console, and there were thick wires hanging loose. “Don’t let those touch you!” she yelled to Yaz who was standing far too close for comfort. The Doctor could stand to get electrocuted by those, but Yaz would be fried. And even the thought made the Doctor feel a bit sick. The TARDIS shook violently, and she grabbed onto the console as the lights flickered down to a deep orange. It was a warning, meant there was a fire somewhere in the TARDIS that had gotten out of control. 

Yaz must have seen something in the Doctor because she backed off, fear creeping into her wide eyes. Ryan and Graham had the same look in theirs, huddled on the floor. Usually it was all fun and games. Yes, there was danger, but the Doctor always had a plan whether she let them in on it or not. She was always good at keeping her friends calm and focused during times they had every right not to be. This time she’d slipped. She saw that now. And if she could get them out of the vortex, she’d have time to feel guilty about that later. 

When she pulled her hands away from the console they were covered in a thick, yellow liquid. Her eyes widened, and she took a step back, staring down at them. The TARDIS was screaming at her in her head. 

“Doc, what is that?” Graham asked gravely. 

“It’s oil from the time travel circuits. It’s...saturated with artron particles. Helps the TARDIS travel in time. Helps... _ everything _ ,” she answered, dread settling into the pit of her stomach. This had never happened to her, not to this degree. And the only times she’d known it had were when a TARDIS was experiencing a critical failure. The stories were endless during the Time War. Whole fleets of TARDISes and crew members killed by space-time circuits failing. That’s what the Daleks would target when they attacked. So many Gallifreyans lost, just sitting ducks, or worse, lost in the vortex. They called them Ghosts, stuck between planes of space and time, haunting that void forever. 

“And if it’s leaking oil that means…” Yaz questioned. 

“We can’t time travel,” she breathed, finally meeting Yaz’s eyes. They all looked at each other for a still, terrifying moment that existed outside of the rest of the chaos, and then the Doctor couldn’t stand to look at them. Instead, she ducked under the console and started rewiring. “If I could just get the emergency power redirected…” This was her last resort, and it was going to work. It had to. She’d be damned before she let her friends die in her own TARDIS. “Come on,” she drawled, hands moving faster than she could think, going on muscle memory alone. Every second counted before the shields started burning off. The engines were already overheating from the effort of keeping them all safe inside the console room, and she nearly cried at the thought of her TARDIS hurting herself to keep them alive. There was a bright spark and a pop and a fire had started below the deck, but she’d done it. She stood up as the TARDIS shook again and breathed heavily. “Okay, the emergency grounding circuits are up and running. Now we just need a time and place.” Her chest heaved as she stared down at the console, emergency lights flashing and alerts going off in her face. The TARDIS was vibrating now, the shields were falling, and things were starting to crack.

“Doctor…” it was Ryan, and he was scared. They all were. The TARDIS was supposed to be the safest place in the universe. She’d always told them that. She frowned. What could land them as quickly as possible without any manual navigation whatsoever? 

“The telepathic circuits!” she yelled, a grin splitting her cheeks. “Of course!” she ran around the console and took a deep breath. When they’d escaped, they were in the 54th century on a planet called Venair in the Milky Way, somewhere adjacent to Earth’s solar system. They’d even been having a good time before things all went to hell as they usually did. She stuck her fingers into the telepathic circuits and closed her eyes. “Okay, similar time zone, similar location, emotional attachment,” she muttered to herself, and the TARDIS was already digging around inside her head for something, anything. And it was probably a good thing because the Doctor was having a hard time forming coherent thoughts. 

After an agonizing moment the TARDIS engines dropped, that familiar wheezing starting up, and the Doctor laughed out of desperate relief. They landed with a violent jolt and the sound of the engines immediately shutting down. They hadn’t fazed in, just dropped, and it threw them to the ground. Smoke started filling the console room, and the Doctor stumbled to her feet, grabbing Graham by his jacket and pulling him to his. Yaz had Ryan, and then they ran. “Come on, out!” she yelled as they stumbled to the doors, her friends coughing in the smoke. They pushed out the doors and staggered into blinding sunlight and vibrant green grass. The Doctor closed the doors behind her and fell onto the grass next to them, breathing heavily. The TARDIS whirred painfully and then fell silent. She’d shut down completely, hoping to save the engines and the space-time circuits from further damage, and the Doctor nodded, trying to catch her breath. “You did good,” she told the TARDIS, and she hummed faintly inside the Doctor’s head. 

Immediately, the Doctor turned around to look at Yaz and Ryan and Graham who were still trying to catch their breath. Nothing looked broken, and none of them had any gaping wounds, but the Doctor wanted them to get a scan, just to be sure. “Is everyone okay?” she asked, pushing herself up onto her knees. Yaz gave her a tired thumbs up, Ryan nodded dumbly, a bit in shock, and Graham just stared at her, brow furrowed tightly and mind reeling. She could practically hear it from there. She eyed them closely. They all had a few scratches, and they’d certainly be bruised badly tomorrow, but other than that they were awake and aware, though Ryan looked a bit concussed, pupils too large for the amount of sun they were getting. Better keep an eye on him. 

“Where are we?” Yaz asked. The Doctor blinked and looked around, nose scrunched and mouth falling open. The air was artificial, recycled, and the gravity was fake. Earth normal, though. So this was a human colony. She looked up. There was a dome far above their heads. And there were large, red brick buildings in the distance. 

“Oh no,” the Doctor breathed, recognition dawning on her, her chest tightening. 

“What? What is it?” Ryan asked, confused and a bit scared. The Doctor grabbed a handful of dirt and took a bite. “Really?” Ryan breathed, disgusted as he scrunched up his face and turned his head away. The color drained from the Doctor’s face, and Yaz immediately picked up on it. 

“Doctor?” she asked gently. 

“This is Luna University. 52nd century,” the Doctor answered quietly. She shook her head and swallowed. “I can’t be here.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends. Decided to post this to distract myself from the new season. There's some pronoun switching in here when referring to past Doctors. Hope it's not too confusing!

“Dunno if we really have a choice, Doc,” Graham called, adjusting himself on the grass with a groan. The cloisters in the TARDIS tolled once more in agreement, and the Doctor knew she should just be thankful they were alive right now. 

“What’s wrong with Luna University? Where exactly is it?” Yaz asked, looking where the Doctor was at campus, bustling in the distance. It was midday and bright out, and the Doctor felt exposed, fidgeting with her fingers. She turned to them again, swallowing and summoning the enthusiasm required to distract herself. 

“You lot built a university on the moon in the 51st century. Really popular and ridiculously expensive. If you’re human, it’s a great stepping stone to get off world once you graduate,” she said, taking a deep breath, eyeing their reactions. They all looked a bit stunned. “For a long time Luna had one of the foremost higher education programs in this part of the galaxy. Actually—”

“Are we safe?” Ryan interrupted, and the Doctor fell silent as Yaz and Graham looked to her with the same concern in their eyes, hesitant yet determined despite everything. 

“The Venairies were using repurposed Dalek technology. The really old stuff, not very effective. That’s why they were able to damage the TARDIS. But even Daleks can’t track us through the vortex,” she said solemnly, nodding at them. She could see them slump in relief, eyeing each other’s cuts and bruises. 

“What’re they gonna do now? I mean, we didn’t even stop them, we just...ran away,” Graham shook his head, frowning. He was right. They hadn’t stopped them. Had gotten close though. She nearly dismantled their control systems before they were chased off planet. The Doctor would have died there stopping them, but her friends would have died too, and they were worth so much more than one fleet of Venairies. 

“Even the Daleks have safeguards. The Venairies might have acquired the technology, but they won’t be able to weaponize it to the scale they’re hoping for. There’s a tripwire in most Dalek systems, like a copyright license it prevents the user from stealing the technology. I had to break into their mainframe to access the code, but when they start trying to mass produce those guns nothin’ll work,” she nodded, holding back a proud smile, and they seemed satisfied with that answer, relaxing just a bit. 

“You’re bleeding,” Yaz pointed out then, her voice worried as she pointed to the Doctor’s head. She raised her hand to touch the area and winced, her fingers coming back slick with coppery orange blood. She remembered hitting her head on the console, must have hit it on something sharp. “That doesn’t look good.” 

“Ah, head wounds always look worse than they are,” the Doctor dismissed, pushing herself into a standing position. She wavered on her feet, the world spinning just a tad, ears ringing.  _ Right _ . Yaz noticed and stood up to ground her, just in case she stumbled. She blinked and shook the dizziness away, reaching into her pocket for her sonic. But as soon as she had a grip on it, she knew something was wrong. She could stick the tip of her finger under the outer shell. Quickly pulling it out of her pocket, she examined it and slumped. “No!” she whined, cradling her shattered sonic. There were hairline fractures along the length, and the tip had broken in her pocket. “Must’ve fallen on it when we got tossed around in the TARDIS,” she moaned, looking to her friends. 

“‘M sorry, Doc,” Graham winced. She sighed and put her sonic away, running a hand through her hair, eyeing the state of her friends. She would have done almost anything to avoid going into town, but when her friends could have internal injuries and she didn’t have the TARDIS or her sonic to confirm, she really didn’t have a choice. 

“I wanna get you three checked out at the university hospital,” she said then, trying to contain her anxiety, “ _ I’ll _ be fine—always am—but you lot might have internal bleeding. You never know with humans. And Ryan I want you to get tested for a concussion.” Graham put his hand on Ryan’s shoulder in response, a frown written deep into the lines of his face. “It’s gonna take a few hours for the smoke to clear out of the TARDIS, so we might as well. Can get lunch after, eh? No excuses.” 

Luna University in the 52nd century was a time and place she never thought she’d find herself again. In fact, she’d taken great pains to avoid it, just in case. The time she’d been given with River had been delicate and fleeting and an absolute whirlwind, but it was over.  _ T hings end, River, because they have to _ _._ The Doctor had told her that on Darillium when she was Scottish and angry and had a hard time being touched, being vulnerable. Wishing for things now would be fruitless and stupid and hurt infinitely more than being here already did. 

Ryan and Graham got to their feet too, and then they started walking, side by side and silent, into the belly of the beast. 

“Doctor, are you okay?” Yaz asked quietly enough for the others not to hear.

“‘Course I am,” the Doctor frowned, glancing at her. She’d always thought that Yaz had brilliant intuition, and she admired the unwavering faith she had in it. Sometimes she forgot how young she and Ryan were, fresh out of school with the determination and ridiculous amount of bravery you could only have when you think you’re invincible.

“You just seem...dunno, uneasy, I guess. And you never said what’s wrong with Luna. Why can’t you be here?” She was so sincere and worried, and it just made the Doctor’s hearts hurt more.

“I have a history with Luna,” she admitted, glancing briefly at Yaz, trying to sound casual. 

“Well are they gonna run you out or something?” she chuckled, “I mean what did you do?” The Doctor swallowed and blinked, not knowing how to make eye contact. 

“The important thing is that I won’t be recognized. No one knows this face yet,” she answered, though it wasn’t really an answer. Yaz frowned and brushed the hair that had fallen out of her braid from her face. She was studying the Doctor, and what she found on her face was an expression Yaz hadn’t seen before, some pained sort of regret. Something bordering on fear. The Doctor dreaded to name it. 

It didn’t take more than half an hour to reach the city limits and another ten minutes to walk to the hospital. When they got through the doors, the nurse at the reception desk took immediate notice of them. Exhausted, smoke sticking to their clothes, scratched and bruised and banged up, Graham limping and Ryan concussed, they looked worse for wear. The Doctor placed her hands on the counter. “These are my friends: Yaz, Ryan, and Graham,” she glanced back at them reassuringly, “They need some medical attention.” The nurse nodded and flagged a few of her colleagues over to take them to examination rooms. “I’m just gonna wait in the lobby, eh, gang?” she nodded to them just as a doctor came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“Ma’am, you’re going to need some stitches for that forehead.” 

“No, no, I’m fine,” she shook her head, shaking the doctor off and taking a step back. 

“Just go with the doctor,” Yaz encouraged, nodding at her. The Doctor frowned. 

“That bad?” she breathed, confused. 

“You’re bruisin’ already, Doc,” Graham pointed out, swirling his finger around his temple and eye, and she just huffed, letting the doctor lead her away to a bed down the hall with a little curtain. She had a brown pixie cut and bright orange eyes. Could be human, but the extra fingers gave it away. There were other subtle differences in biology between humans and Ptolems, but those were the most visible. Their planet was strikingly similar to Earth, and that was probably why. The woman caught her looking.

“It’s rude to stare, you know?” she offered, turning to wash her hands and put on gloves. The Doctor found herself looking away, embarrassed, something she hadn’t been in a long time. Eyebrows certainly never cared what other people thought, rather aggressively so.

“ _ Sorry _ , I’m sorry. Last time I was on Ptolem, they’d just legalized interspecies organ transplant. If I remember correctly, they released a ten year study on Ptolem-Human optic nerve transplants?” she asked hopefully, trying to make conversation, and the woman frowned. 

“That was nearly thirty years ago,” she scoffed, pulling out cleaning supplies and materials for stitching up the Doctor’s forehead. The Doctor blushed. “This might hurt a bit,” she warned, dabbing at the edges of the wound with a clean swab. The Doctor winced. “So your friend called you Doc, and you seem to know enough about Ptolem-Human medicine, however outdated your information. Are you a doctor?” 

“Not that kind,” she chuckled, a weak smile on her lips. “More of a traveler, me.” Being at Luna after Darillium was dizzying and not in a good way. She felt raw, all those old wounds starting to resurface.

“Not human like your friends either,” she commented, beginning to stitch her up. The woman saw her confused, a bit panicked, stare and chuckled. “Your blood. Not human consistency or color.” 

“I...well…” the Doctor stumbled, flustered. Couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about that. 

“It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything,” she laughed and then pulled off one of her gloves, offering her hand to shake, “Dr. Allison Staves.” The Doctor took it.

“Joh— _ Jane _ Smith,” she stumbled. Dr. Staves raised her brow. 

“Does anyone ever fall for that?” she asked skeptically. People didn’t usually call her on her aliases, and the Doctor had always been under the impression it was because they believed her. She hadn’t really considered it was often because she directed their attention elsewhere quick enough for them not to ask. She realized that certainly said more about herself than about the people she was lying to. The Doctor didn’t answer before Dr. Staves was talking again. “How were you and your friends injured?” 

“My ship took some damage. Had to land here. Kind of an emergency,” she winced, scrunching up her nose as she said it. Dr. Staves eyed her. 

“If you were fugitives, would you tell me?”

“Probably not,” the Doctor answered honestly. 

“Are you?” 

“No,” she scoffed, “though I’m starting to think you wouldn’t believe me anyway.” 

“A fair assessment,” Dr. Staves smiled. “Those stitches’ll dissolve in about five days. You’re gonna have quite the black eye, but you’ll be alright.”

“Thanks, Doc,” the Doctor breathed as she slid off the bed, and then her eyes lit up. “ _ Oh _ , that’s fun to say. No wonder Graham does it.”

“Dr. Smith,” Dr. Staves called before she could leave the room. The Doctor nearly didn’t stop and turn, forgetting that was her name now. “If you’re going to be... _ laying low _ ...on Luna just...be careful. They’ve tightened up on security recently.” The Doctor frowned. 

“Why, what happened?” Dr. Staves pressed her lips into a thin line, nostrils flaring, deciding how to answer. 

“Much like you, some of the staff here have their secrets.” The Doctor stepped forward to ask more questions, mind racing, but Dr. Staves snapped off her other glove. “Go. Your friends should be taken care of by now.” The Doctor closed her mouth and frowned, giving Dr. Staves one last curious look before turning and leaving. 

By the time she was back in the waiting room, her friends were sitting in chairs talking, and she was doing her best to put on a neutral face. “So, what’s the verdict?” the Doctor asked with a deep breath, rubbing her hands together. They told her they were scratched up, Ryan had a mild concussion, and there was a brace on Graham’s ankle, but other than that they were fine. 

“You are gonna have a wicked black eye,” Ryan laughed, shaking his head. Yaz and Graham looked amused, and the Doctor pouted. 

“Never had a black eye before,” she mumbled, touching it gingerly, finding little strips of surgical tape there. 

“On the plus side, it looks  really badass,” Yaz offered, standing up, Ryan and Graham following. She perked up a bit at that. 

“Definitely look tougher than usual,” Graham nodded, and the Doctor frowned again. 

“Oi, I’m always tough!” 

“Sure, Doc,” Ryan laughed. “Come on, I’m starving. Where can we get some food around here?” 

The Doctor wrapped her arms around Yaz and Ryan’s shoulders, Ryan’s other arm around Graham’s shoulders, and led them out the front doors of the hospital. “You’re in luck because I know a great cafe not too far from here. They serve the absolute best scones in a fifty lightyear radius. Plus, they let you pick what music you want it baked to. Really affects the flavor.” 

“Doctor, what in the world are you on about?” Graham asked. “You can’t bake pastries with music.” 

“Maybe you can’t, Graham, but a few years ago a student in the musical engineering department discovered that you can create notes with infrared radiation and…” as the Doctor continued, she noticed none of them were quite paying attention, too busy watching the trees sway with artificial wind and the 52nd century students as they came and went. This was the first non-terrestrial Earth sponsored university, and it was probably one of the most normal places they’d ever traveled to.

As they walked, she couldn’t help thinking about what Dr. Staves had said, and her smile fell. A tightening of security at a public university like Luna usually meant that either someone had made a threat or a fugitive was using Luna as a rest stop. Or there was always the dreaded third option which was that River was involved.  _ Now I love a bad girl, me. But trust you? Seriously? _ He’d said that to her the day they’d all been summoned to Lake Silencio, dark eyes and parted lips, close enough that he could smell her perfume. He’d enjoyed saying that to her, perhaps a bit too much. And she was all space hair and spoilers and a force of gorgeous nature that the Doctor had still been running from then, such a miserably fruitless pursuit and he knew it.  _ I’m not going to be there to catch you every time you feel like jumping out of a spaceship. _ He’d said it in outraged frustration at the foot of the wreck of the Byzantium, hands flailing like they did, standing right over her shoulder, close enough for River to know it was the kind of anger the Doctor would give in to as soon as River gave him a sideways smile.  _ And you are  so wrong.  _ She smiled and shook her head and went back to her scanner, and his anger, as she well anticipated, melted away into frustrated curiosity. She was fun and flirty and it only scared him when he realized how deep the waters of those passing comments ran. She wondered sometimes whether River knew that the things she’d said—not the harmless spoilers and teasing innuendos but the hints of tragedy and grief and affection so profound it made the Doctor, even back then, ache—were what had drawn him in closer than River could have anticipated. 

_ When the Doctor’s in the room, your one and only mission is to keep him alive long enough to get everyone else home. And trust me, it’s not easy. Now, if he’s dead back there, I’ll never forgive myself. And if he’s alive, I’ll never forgive him. _ It took the Doctor too many sleepless nights and a regeneration and a half to realize that River hadn’t said any of it for the sake of preserving the space-time continuum. And the way she sighed wearily, an impossible weight on her chest, eyes rolling to the ceiling  _ give me strength _ when he found out she was in Stormcage, loaned out to the church like property, hadn’t chilled him to his core the way it does now. And the way her demeanor changed instantly to cater to the Doctor’s needs, to hide the damage when his scanner beeped, hadn’t knocked the wind out of him as it does to her now, two faces later. 

The older she got, the more she wanted nothing but to soothe that pain for River, to relieve whatever it was that kept her so faithfully tethered to her  _ Doctor _ . Oh, the way she spoke sometimes made the Doctor think it was out of obligation. Tangled together by the universe in webs of flirty banter and keeping up appearances. Or was it love? He’d suspected as much from the moment he met her. But he’d never anticipated loving her back as blindly and unconditionally as she so unwaveringly did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again. Would love to hear your thoughts in the comments! Also I promise this is the last chapter without an appearance from River!


	3. Chapter 3

“How d’ya like your scone?” the Doctor asked through a mouthful, and Graham raised his eyebrows and nodded enthusiastically, his own mouth full. 

“Brilliant. Sinatra was a good choice. Who knew people’d still like ‘im two thousand years later,” he answered after swallowing, a grin on his face, eyes sparkling. They were sitting near the window close to the town square. It was a lovely afternoon, as it always was on Luna, campus bustling with students and professors, and the cafe smelled like baked bread and cinnamon sugar. “And this view,” he scoffed, “almost makes crashing the TARDIS worth it,” he chuckled, and they nodded. 

The Doctor frowned then, setting down her scone. “I’m so sorry about all of this. I would never forgive myself if any of you got hurt. If you ever want to leave I would completely understand…”

“Doctor, don’t even say that,” Yaz interrupted, leaning forward. “We faced a Dalek head on with you. By now, we know what we signed up for.” The Doctor highly doubted that, knew there would surely come a day when Yaz would even regret saying it, but she appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. 

“I don’t think you realize how close we came to…” the Doctor couldn’t finish, stomach churning, brow furrowed tightly. “I’ve always promised you that the TARDIS is the safest place in the universe, and that wasn’t true today. I let you down.” 

“I’m sorry, Doc, but you’re wrong,” Graham said, placing his hand over the Doctor’s. “We’re in this together through thick and thin. Always have been.” His smile was soft and open, and the Doctor felt a lump forming in her throat as Ryan placed his hand on top of Graham’s and Yaz placed hers on top of Ryan’s. 

“Together,” Yaz echoed, and Ryan did too. And as they sat there, the Doctor had never been more thankful to have friends by her side. Well, absolutes were often lies when it came to the Doctor. Sometimes. Though this face was rather fond of them. And they never felt like lies when she said them. 

“So how long is it going to take to fix the TARDIS?” Ryan asked as they pulled their hands away. The Doctor swallowed, leaning back in her chair. 

“Dunno, really. Once all the smoke has been vented out, I’ll go take a look at the damage. Though the doctor who did my stitches said something interesting. Might have to find a way to move the TARDIS out of the clearing.” 

“What was it?” Yaz asked, eyes attentive and curious again.

“Said they’ve tightened up on security recently. Wouldn’t say why.” 

“Do you think something’s going on?” Graham asked. They all seemed to perk up at the implication of danger, and in light of their recent crash, the Doctor didn’t know if that was really a good thing. Absently, she wondered if she chose her companions for their gravitation toward danger or if she made them into people who sought it out. Her chest tightened at the thought. 

“Maybe. Wouldn’t surprise me at Luna,” she muttered. 

“Why not?” Yaz asked, remembering their conversation from earlier. The Doctor had done a good job of pushing down her unease before with her friends being injured. And then the good food had distracted her, but she was still sitting at the heart of the university where her dead wife was currently employed. She shook her head, not having the stomach to explain it to them right now. At least that’s what she told herself. 

“I’m no stranger here. And trouble tends to follow when I’m around, eh, fam?” she offered, trying to be lighthearted. They must have seen the pain behind her eyes because they didn’t smile. 

“Doctor, you said earlier that no one here knows this face yet,” Yaz offered, shaking her head, confused. “You always talked about being a man but…” 

“S’cause I used to be one,” she told them with a nod, then scrunched her nose at their bewildered expressions. “What, thought I was lying to you?” 

“Or...joking or confused or something,” Ryan offered helplessly. 

“Why would I lie about that? Or be confused?” she countered. “I’m alien, aren’t I? Had to have expected something different about my biology.” 

“Yeah, but you’re the  _ Doctor _ _._ You look…” Graham trailed off, motioning to her, glancing to Ryan and Yaz for help. 

“Human?” the Doctor finished for him, and the three of them nodded hesitantly. 

“I mean we know you’re not, but…” Yaz added, but she hadn’t much else to offer either. “Anyway, you never tell us anything about yourself. It’s easy to forget you’re not...one of us.” 

The Doctor turned up her lip and cocked her head back in that incredulous, bit offended way she did, “That’s a bit harsh.”

“I think what Yaz was trying to say is that because you look so human, it’s easy to forget that you may not operate the same as we do,” Graham intervened gently. The Doctor knew Yaz hadn’t meant any harm, but the comment had thrown some distance between them, emphasized a divide the Doctor wanted nothing more than to close this time around.

“So if you can change your face does that mean you’re like a shapeshifter or something?” Ryan asked, narrowing his eyes, a smile creeping onto his lips. The Doctor exhaled and let herself smile too, diffusing the tension.  _ Brilliant boy, Ryan _ _._ She didn’t think she appreciated him enough sometimes. 

“No, not me. Where I come from, when I die, instead of being gone I...regenerate. I change my body. And I can remember everything, all those people. I know who they were. They were me, but they weren’t  _ me _ _._ ” 

“How many times have you...regenerated?” Ryan asked. “I mean, you’re not even that old.” Yaz immediately elbowed him in the side. “Ow! What was that for?” 

“You never ask a lady her age,” Graham told him sternly. 

“I’m not askin’ just sayin’ ya can’t be over 35,” he shook his head, motioning to the Doctor. Yaz rolled her eyes and sighed.

“You’re really thick sometimes, Ryan,” Yaz told him. 

“Nah, it’s alright, Yaz,” she said watching the three of them adjust back to some kind of equilibrium, turning to listen to what the Doctor was going to say. “I’ve started to lose track a bit,” she laughed, squeezing her fingers uncomfortably. “Nearing three thousand now, I suppose.” 

“Three bloody thousand?” Graham burst, outraged, Ryan and Yaz stunned into silence. A few customers turned to look at them. Most were students studying on laptops, but some professors had walked in. She recognized a few of them from the archeology department, and it sent panic surging through her, white hot and blinding. 

“Keep your voice down,” the Doctor hissed frantically, holding a hand over her eyebrow and ducking her head down.  _ Shit _ _._ She’d forgotten why she loved this cafe so much, used to meet River here after her classes let out sometimes. Surprise her for tea and then whisk her off to some distant planet with a thousand things desperately trying to kill them. She’d always smile, her eyes warm and soft and tired after a long day, and sit down across from him with a gentle sigh. That was when the Doctor had been a man who wore bowties. Gangly and tall with eyes that saw right through River, always had.  _ Surprised to see me? _ He would ask, and River would hold back a smile, swirling her tea with her spoon, eyes sparkling.  _Always, my love. Now, what fresh hell have you brought to my doorstep today?_ The Doctor would lean forward and smile then, never able to keep quite still.  _ Come with me and find out. _ He’d been young then by River’s standards, right before and after they were married. But, as with everything, those times faded the older he got. By the time he’d seen her again in Manhattan, he had long stopped doing that. Linear time meant aging. And he couldn’t stand to see her age. 

“Why what’s wrong?” Yaz asked, snapping out of her shock to the Doctor’s panic. 

“We have to leave. Right now,” the Doctor said gravely, making eye contact with each one of them. “The archeology department is here, and that means—” The bell above the door jingled and two people walked in. 

“You’re awful. You can’t let your students believe the third Blue Opal Revolution started over a piece of toast!” a man laughed as they walked to the register. 

“That’s why I’m saying you have to back me up! You know Avin will be coming into your office hours tomorrow trying to discredit me. I don’t care what the history books say. I was there,” she protested. The Doctor didn’t hear what the man said in response because there was a fierce ringing in her ears. She watched Professor River Song brush a few curls away from her eyes, standing there, flesh and blood, not more than three yards away. She could feel the color drain from her face, and her stomach churned when River laughed. That throaty, bouncing chuckle that dripped from her like honey and made the Doctor’s head buzz this time around. 

“Doctor?” Ryan asked softly, and she snapped her head to them. They looked concerned, and she blinked a few times, swallowing. “Who is that?” 

“Don’t use my name,” she told them, voice low and serious like when they were in real danger. They reacted accordingly. 

“Right, what do we call you?” Yaz asked. 

“Jane Smith,” she answered automatically, and her friends glanced at each other skeptically. 

“Sorry, Doc, but no,” Ryan shook his head. “If you’re going for an undercover name, you can’t use the most generic one in the book.” 

“No, no, just a cup of tea for me, thanks,” she heard River say by the register. The Doctor could envision the polite smile on her face. The crows feet at the corners of her eyes. Or did she have those yet. Maybe they’d developed on Darillium. River hated when he traced those lines on her face with his finger, soft and loving, but he’d kiss the embarrassment right off her and tell her she looked absolutely beautiful. And she did. 

“Right, well, we’ll figure it out later. Time to go,” she rushed, pushing back her chair and standing up. They followed suit, and the Doctor had to take a deep breath to keep herself from panicking, the feeling already welling up in her throat. River couldn’t know who she was, and it would be even better if she never saw her. The last time she’d seen River when she’d married King Hydroflax, she’d only known about the Doctor’s faces up until Bowtie. To River, the Doctor was on his last regeneration. She couldn’t know. More importantly, the Doctor had already seen her not know, had listened to that heartbreaking terrible speech, and  _ not one line don’t you dare . _

“Oh, no, Avin’s a brilliant student. Just a bit arrogant, wouldn’t you say?” River asked one of her colleagues. The Doctor chose to keep her head down as she walked toward the door. Every word out of River’s mouth hurt. She didn’t think she’d ever see her again. No, she’d been certain of it. Though there had been times she’d thought the same thing and had been proven wrong. When Clara had jumped into the Doctor’s timestream, and he’d come face to face with the remnants of River’s consciousness. When they’d spent twenty four years on Darillium. When he’d given River his sonic. She supposed she shouldn’t expect anything when it came to River Song because, really, wasn’t she the one person who could still surprise her? 

That was when she ran right into the woman herself, shoulders connecting as they stumbled back, River’s tea going all over the floor and her blouse. The Doctor gasped, and River did too, looking down at the damage, body tense and arms out. “Oh, I am so sorry,” she stumbled immediately, turning and grabbing napkins. She had to restrain herself from patting down River’s shirt for her. Probably wouldn’t be appreciated from a stranger. “I’m not usually this much of a clutz. I—” 

River took a deep calming breath, taking the napkins from her. “It’s fine. I didn’t like this shirt anyway,” she exhaled, looking up to meet the Doctor’s eyes. She was wearing the same frustrated restraint she had for the Doctor when he’d been so young, trapezing through the Byzantium not knowing her, and her saying  _ I hate you _ , and him having the arrogance to say  _ no you don’t _ . It made the Doctor sick to think about. River frowned then. “Are you alright?” The Doctor blinked, furrowing her brow. 

“What? Yeah, no, I’m fine. Perfect. Right as rain. You’re the one with tea all over you,” she forced a chuckle, looking at River. She couldn’t stop  _ looking _ at River. Something was different. 

“I meant your eye,” River grimaced, motioning. “Get into a fight?” The Doctor felt a blush rise to her cheeks. 

“Only with inanimate objects,” she answered sheepishly. 

“Then I would argue you’re more of a clutz than you realize,” River told her as she looked the Doctor over, not seeming too happy about her deduction. That was it. That’s what was different. River’s eyes. They were always looking down at her. The Doctor was  _ shorter _ than her. Her eyes widened in awe, and oh what a lovely change. “What was your name again?” The Doctor faltered, opened her mouth and nothing came out. She stood there a second too long when Ryan’s hand came up onto her shoulder. 

“You alright, sis?” he asked, looking at her. She glanced at him. He raised his brow at her expectantly.  _ Sis _ ? Sister? Oh,  _ sister _ ! 

“Yeah, yeah, fine, thanks, Ryan,” she nodded, turning back to River. “Jane Sinclair,” she offered, holding out her hand to shake. River took it. Her hand was warm and soft and exactly how the Doctor remembered it all those years ago on Darillium. 

On nights when the Doctor was feeling particularly open, which wasn’t often, he would let River play with his gray curls. After long days she would drag her short nails over his scalp and wrap his hair around her fingers, gentle massages that the Doctor would drift off to. And he would wake up with his head cradled on River’s chest, her quietly asleep, chest rising and falling in steady waves. It would be late, two or three or four, and he would intertwine their fingers, tracing the swirl of her fingerprints with his thumb. He pressed his lips to each finger, slow and sweet, and she would stir, humming and inhaling deeply through her nose.  _ What time is it? _ She’d mumble, half asleep, and he’d smile, kissing her palm.  _ Late .  _

“River Song,” she said back and then pulled a card out of her pocket. “If you feel like paying for my dry cleaning don’t hesitate to call,” she said, pressing the card into the Doctor’s hand, though her tone didn’t imply that not paying was an option. Then she turned back to the counter to get another cup of tea, complaining to another professor about the mess on her shirt. The Doctor stood there with her mouth open, wanting to speak but not knowing what to say, watching the back of River’s head like it was going to disappear right before her eyes. Abruptly, hands were grabbing her shoulders and forcing her out of the café and into the streets, blinding sun in her eyes, in the direction of the TARDIS. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again! hope this lived up to expectations. the doctor is a useless gay and that's all i have to say about that. would love to hear your thoughts in the comments!


	4. Chapter 4

“I’ve  _ never _ seen you stumble that hard, Doctor,” Ryan laughed as they walked, beginning to get away from the bustle of campus. 

“It was a good save, son,” Graham added, nodding to him. They were walking slow because Graham was limping and the Doctor hadn’t quite descended back into her body yet. 

“So, why can’t you say your real name here exactly?” Yaz asked, and the Doctor blinked, raising her brow. 

“My real name?” she repeated absently, and Yaz nodded. She thought of Gallifrey for a moment, the red grass and the rolling hills miles outside the citadel, two suns, and blistering summers. Part of her had always wished she could have taken River there. Not to the politics or the bustle of the city but to the fields where everything was red and warm and drowsy like a dream. 

“Doctor?” Ryan asked curiously. She blinked and turned to look at him. 

“Sorry,” she apologized, forcing a halfhearted laugh. “What’d ya say?” 

“We were just wondering what happened to you at Luna that you can’t say your real name here. Are we undercover?” 

“Kinda. Yeah. River Song. We...knew each other when I had a different face. Ages ago,” she shook her head. “She can’t know who I am. Though with my luck makes perfect sense I run into her right away,” she rambled, scoffing. It was entirely unfathomably ridiculous that the only time she couldn’t run away was in the one place that held the ineffable River Song. It made her want to laugh and cry because the one thing she’d always been good at when it came to River was leaving before it started to hurt. Well, it was hurting now.

“Did she travel with you?” Yaz asked. 

“Something like that,” the Doctor answered, forcing down the lump in her throat with a hard swallow, blinking quickly. He’d asked her to, after Manhattan, quiet and hopeful on the steps of his TARDIS. River had been flying her beautifully, as always, and he’d broken the silence with a request so bittersweet and selfish that it rang back in his ears like knives when she gave him a sad little smile.  _ One psychopath per TARDIS _ _._ He’d hurt her by asking, he knew that, so impulsive and desperate, and River, grieving, had no choice but to say no. 

“Why’d she stop?” Ryan asked.

“And why can’t she know who you are?” Graham added quickly after. 

“It’s complicated,” she winced, “and time travel can hurt sometimes,” she admitted, glancing at them and their curious expressions. “It’s messy. Sometimes I meet people in the wrong order.”

“See, now you’ve lost me,” Graham said as they walked, the sun heavy on the side of their faces, nearing golden hour now. 

“It means sometimes I see... _ River _ _,_ and she’s younger than when I met her the last time,” the Doctor explained, choking on her name despite her best efforts. Hadn’t said that allowed for enough years for the sound of it to surprise the Doctor as it reverberated in her ears. “And vice versa,” the Doctor added. “Paradoxes and time loops. Ripped the whole universe apart once,” she mused. 

“Doctor, assuming creating a paradox is bad—” Yaz started. 

“Very bad. Tastes a bit like oranges and blood, tinny, though. Can smell ‘em when they start coming on. Had to restart the universe once. Well, technically twice if you count time loops as paradoxes. Bit of a broad umbrella term really,” the Doctor rambled, the TARDIS coming into view in the distance, bit of a savior for this conversation, guilty relief flooding through her. 

“Doctor,” Yaz interrupted, “how much have you seen of the universe that what you know could create paradoxes? How long have you been traveling?” The question held some sadness to it, or maybe that was the Doctor adding it in in her head. 

“Long time. Too long,” she said, brushing her hair away and forcing a smile. “Anway, it’s more about timelines. Ours are...complicated. And, you know, River has her own secrets too. Not just me that gets to take all the credit for that. Sometimes I think she just likes having something to hold over my head.”

“So you two were close then?” Ryan asked, and the Doctor hesitated. River’s business card felt heavy and cold in her pocket. 

“I’d like to believe so.” They walked in silence for a moment until they reached the TARDIS doors. “Fans have shut off. Let’s take a look at the damage,” she breathed, pushing the doors open. Her friends walked in behind her. The console was in shambles, and it smelled faintly of arton energy, the nose tingling twinkle of time and honeysuckle and a crisp morning dew. There were scorch marks on the floor where fires had been put out, and the Doctor could feel the faint sagging of the TARDIS’s consciousness, the weariness she carried. 

“This is proper destroyed,” Ryan gawked at the mess as they spread out through the console room. Debris littered the floor like confetti. 

“Doc…” Graham hesitated, looking at her. She stood frozen, assessing the damage, mouth open, face twisted in pain. 

“Proper destroyed,” the Doctor echoed, voice hoarse and catching in her throat. “Oh my beautiful TARDIS.” She ran her fingers along the console, and the TARDIS whined faintly. “I met her once, you know,” the Doctor said suddenly, turning to them. “Face to face, I mean.” 

“Your TARDIS?” Yaz asked skeptically. The Doctor glanced around, a sad smile teasing her lips. 

“Fell through a plug hole at the end of the universe. Her consciousness was placed in a human body, and I got to say hello.” 

“You always say hello to the TARDIS,” Ryan pointed out. 

“No, I mean...we got to speak. Told me she’d stolen me just like I’d stolen her. An antique even back then,” she chuckled and then swallowed, licking her lips as she turned to them. “There’s something powerful about being able to see a person’s eyes when they talk.”

“Used to make eye contact with every person that got on my bus. It’s important. Creates trust. Conveys respect,” Graham said with a nod and then glanced at Ryan. “Grace used to say the eyes are the window to the soul. Bit of a cliché, but she always liked it. People feel a lot and they don’t say much. That was important to her, as a nurse, to pay attention to what people said with their eyes not just their mouths.” Ryan almost smiled but broke eye contact, shifting his weight and looking down. Graham looked so proud and so sad, and Ryan could barely hold onto that sadness without breaking. Sometimes the Doctor forgot that it hadn’t even been a year since Grace died. Guilt came flooding back to her, and she felt selfish for feeling it. 

River invaded her thoughts. The lovely, brilliant River Song in the Library with her arrogance and love and profound sacrifice. River wasn’t afraid to look anyone in the eye. The Doctor had always found that to be an admirable quality. It had struck him in the moments before her death. The way she cried and stared unblinkingly into his eyes, yearning and achingly sincere, desperate to get him to understand, to see her like she needed him to at that moment. Because even in her last seconds she’d catered to his innocence, his fragility, the childish frustration he felt for her, for his future. And she was just so desperate to drink him in, absorb him into her blood, imprint him straight onto her soul as if she hadn’t already done that before. She’d been so brave. And she deserved so much better than his incompetence. 

“It’s brave,” the Doctor added hoarsely, shocked to find her voice failing her. She cleared her throat and motioned to Graham and Ryan, tilting her head down. “Grace was a smart woman.” 

“Where were you just now, Doctor?” Yaz asked softly, the moment broken. “Who were you thinking of?” Spilled tea and hair just as big and impossible as the Doctor remembered filled her mind in swirls of laughter and the way she smelled like time and something sharp. River Song and her strong shoulders and incorrigible students and their even more incorrigible professor.  _ Maybe when you’re older. _ She wished she’d paid more attention to what River said with her eyes.  _ Spoilers _ _._ It was always different than what her mouth told him. 

“Doesn’t matter. Would you lot mind helping me lift out this section of the console? Then we can turn in for the night. Been a long day, eh, fam?” she asked, walking toward the charred section of the console that held a good chunk of the controls for the space travel circuits. She breezed past them and watched as they shared a look before slowly following. She was acting a bit off. She knew that. Yaz came on her right, and Ryan and Graham stood across from her. “Right, just a mo’,” she breathed, ducking under the console to unlatch the panel from the frame and then popping up a beat later. “Count of three. One, two, three,” she breathed, and they heaved the panel up and out, setting the heavy metal down on the floor as gingerly as they could. They all took a couple deep breaths and glanced at each other. 

“Well, think I’m off to bed. Gotta rest my ankle,” Graham said, glancing down at the brace there. The Doctor winced. It must hurt. He’d been walking on it all day. 

“If you need pain killers they’re in the med bay. First cabinet on the right above the sink.  _ Don’t _ take the pills in the blue bottle. Might grow a third arm. Happened to me once. Useful really until it started slapping biscuits out of my hand.”

“You grew a  _sentient arm_ _?_ ” Yaz asked, dumbfounded. 

“And you what, chopped it off? Is that like...murder?” Ryan asked. 

“ _No one_ gets between me and my biscuits. Not even my own arm,” she said, staring gravely at Ryan. 

“Right but was it really yours if it could think for itself?” Graham interjected. They stared at her. 

“Well, if you want to get technical, it was more like an offshoot of my consciousness. Like when you think: I really want this biscuit but I really shouldn’t have it because I’m gonna eat dinner with the fam on the third moon of Klops later but I really _really_ want it. My third arm could actually act on those thoughts.”

“Wait a minute,” Yaz stopped her. “Are you saying the reason you didn’t eat, offended the head chef, and we got kicked out of the most prestigious restaurant in the galaxy is because you were  _ snacking _ beforehand?” 

“It was Darwinism hard at work, Yaz. Survival of the fittest.”

“Doc, I think that particular mutation might have been advantageous for you,” Graham chuckled. 

“Oi, you trying to get between me an’ me biscuits now too?” the Doctor accused, outraged as they all migrated toward the halls, the bedrooms. 

“I think what Graham is trying to say is that a little self control goes a long way,” Yaz said, their voices echoing down the corridor. 

“Honestly, you’re worse than Ryan when he was little. Grace told me he’d take whole packages of Oreos and hide ‘em under his bed for weeks,” Graham chuckled, their voices fading from the console room. And all that was left was the broken controls and a damaged TARDIS trying her best to keep them safe. 

The Doctor should have been exhausted after everything that happened that day, bone tired and weary. And she was, to her surprise. So she trudged to the library after parting ways with her friends, dragging her feet like a child, the TARDIS beeping at her sympathetically. “Oh hush,” she scolded, trailing her fingers along the cold walls, something achingly familiar in the touch. “I’m the King of Okay,” she mused, rapping her fingers along the metal, reaching the library door and pushing it open with more effort than should have been necessary.

She sighed and eased herself down on the couch, more familiar than her own bed which was lost somewhere deep in the TARDIS, no doubt gathering more dust than she was willing to look at. The TARDIS hummed at her, and she frowned. “Just a quick nap. Washes off the day.” She struggled to pull off her tight boots, face scrunched. Had her feet swollen? Something gentle tugged at her mind as her boot fell onto the carpet. “Absolutely not,” she shook her head, letting the other fall to the carpet as well. “You know why I can’t,” she protested, looking up and around at her TARDIS, so stubborn and sentimental. She shrugged off her braces and scoffed, falling back against the cushion, hair splayed around her. “I promised her, not one line.” A low, reverberating thrum sounded around her, and she let her eyes close in protest. 

And as her breathing started to even out, images of River flooded her mind. The way she’d smile when she was saying something she knew the Doctor wouldn’t like, sly and small, her own personal joke. The way her eyes twinkled like the dew on the grass in the Gamma forests on a crisp morning. Absolutely breathtaking. The Doctor’s chest tightened, and her eyes flew open. 

She pressed her palms into her eyes in a panic. She saw the fear in River’s eyes when Amy had the angel in her mind, vitals falling, knowing her mother was about to die.  _ Time can be rewritten. Not those times, not one line. _ The determination she had, the firmness of her voice, the helpless fear bubbling underneath. And then the gentle caress of Amy’s hair when she was okay. The relieved near tears expression as she stared up at the Doctor, brows knotted. They could have lost her. And the Doctor, always the Doctor, the savior, the one who made it work. And River, the one who looked at him so desperately thankful, too proud to admit it, too embarrassed. The Doctor ran panicked hands through her hair and tried not to wonder if that’s how River saw herself. As the supporter. Sometimes the Doctor feared as much when he’d seen those little expressions that bled through her masks, the conditioning that slipped sometimes, Madame Kovarian’s brainwashing.  _ People feel a lot and they don’t say much.  _ River was a force of nature, and the idea that she thought of herself as tethered to the Doctor, as someone inherently inferior to her, made her feel sick.  _ You can’t expect a sunset to admire you back.  _

The Doctor groaned and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the couch and standing up. She threw on her boots without tying them and walked down to the console room. If she couldn’t sleep, she might as well start on the repairs. The TARDIS whined when she got to the charred space.

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor sighed, assessing the console and looking up and around. The TARDIS didn’t make any noise, but she knew she’d been understood.  _ Oh my beautiful idiot. You have what you’ve always had. Me. _ The Doctor smiled painfully and grabbed some tools from a panel under the floor. “Right. Let’s get to work.” 

Before she knew it, Yaz was padding into the console room. It must have been morning, or perhaps even midday, because she was still in her pajamas. “You been in here all night?” Yaz asked, voice cracking and heavy with sleep. She yawned as the Doctor took off her goggles and loosened the pliers she was using. 

“Guess so. Couldn’t sleep,” she answered honestly. “But I finally got those wires back where they’re supposed to go. Remember I rewired as we were crashing? Bit of a rush job so they were all torn up. Looks good as new now. Well...the wires do. Can’t say the same for anything else,” she said standing up and taking a deep breath. 

“How’re you not exhausted? I feel like I could sleep for another four days.”

“Don’t need much sleep,” she shrugged, setting down her things on the broken console. “How ‘bout some breakfast? My treat,” she smiled, striding forward and grabbing Yaz’s hand, leading her straight to the kitchen. 

Two burned pieces of toast and a slightly overdone egg later, the Doctor finally set a breakfast plate down in front of each of their chairs with two cups of tea and the exact amount of milk and sugar that Yaz liked. “Thank you,” she said, hair in a ponytail, looking more awake now. “So, how bad is the TARDIS really? Are we stuck here?” 

The Doctor frowned and swallowed her bit of egg, setting down her fork. “‘Course not. I’ll get her up and running. Might take a bit longer than usual. Maybe a couple weeks. Depending on if I need any parts.” 

“Can you even get TARDIS parts anywhere?”

“There’s always black market parts floating around here and there. Or I could just go from scratch. Did that once. Remember that plughole at the end of the universe?” 

“When you met your TARDIS face to face?” Yaz clarified, and the Doctor nodded. Yaz scoffed and shook her head, looking at the Doctor curiously. “Sometimes you say things, Doctor, and I remember that none of us really know anything about you.” And the Doctor had worked rather hard to keep it that way. Though the guilt was beginning to eat at the corners of her mind about hiding her relationship to River from them, especially since she was  _ right there _ _._ But as with the rest of her past, she kept it hidden because it hurt too much to think about, let alone talk about. She was ashamed. The silence of the kitchen rang in the Doctor’s ears suddenly, and she knew she’d have to say something. 

“What would you like to know?” she asked, meeting Yaz’s eyes and resting her elbows on the table, mouth set into a hard line. 

“How many faces have you had?” 

“Fourteen,” she answered, not breaking eye contact. 

“Have you always traveled with humans?” 

“Not always.” 

“Why Earth?” Yaz asked, and the Doctor wondered why she looked confused. 

“I _like_ Earth,” she said earnestly. “Humanity has something no one else does. This...unrelenting compassion and mercy in the face of _unimaginable_ atrocity. You keep going despite everything.” 

“Doctor, I’ve seen you show mercy. Be compassionate. And I’ve seen other aliens do the same,” Yaz pointed out. 

“Not like humans do. You can feel it across the stars,” she explained, eyes shining.

“So your people  _ weren’t _ compassionate?” Yaz asked, and the Doctor froze. They’d tried to ask about her past before, but she’d always shrugged them off, wanting  _ or was it needing _ to move away from something tragic for once. A fresh start, a clean slate. And sometimes she even convinced herself it was possible. She took a breath. 

“They could be. A lot of them were. But they became…” she shook her head, “entitled. Full of stuffy old politicians. Started a war they had no hope of finishing. Watched whole galaxies go up in flames while they did nothing. The Time War, it was called.”

Yaz nodded slowly, brow furrowed. “How did it end?” 

“Suddenly,” was all the Doctor said before taking a bite of her toast. Her eyes were dark and entirely somewhere else, and Yaz watched her for another moment, sipping her tea. 

“Are you gonna call that woman? River Song?” Yaz asked then, changing the subject. She sensed the Doctor didn’t want to talk about the Time War, whatever that was. But then the Doctor’s eyes shot to her in a wave of panic that Yaz wasn’t expecting. Though she quickly masked it with a swallow and an awkward laugh. 

“Call her? Why would I do that? I feel like I shouldn’t. Not really supposed to. Paradoxes, time streams, I could blow up half the known universe,” she rambled, bouncing with nervous energy. 

“By paying for her dry cleaning?” Yaz asked, skeptical. “Really, it’s the polite thing to do, Doctor. You did ruin her shirt.” 

“Fair. Fair point, Yaz. Yeah, I did do that,” she winced, biting down on her thumb nail. It definitely wasn’t the first time she’d ruined one of River’s shirts. The first time had been when she’d had those gangly limbs and nonexistent eyebrows. And it had been early enough for him that he couldn’t do anything in front of River without blushing and flailing his arms about like a fool. 

So when River kissed him and stripped him of his bowtie and undid his braces and touched him with the most commanding hands and sultry voice, he shook like a leaf and melted to putty in her capable hands. He had her up against the console, running his hands up her ribs and pulling the button down out of her trousers. She hummed and smiled into his lips as he fiddled.  _ You can take it off, sweetie _ _._ She purred in his ear. So he started on the buttons as she latched onto his neck, biting and kissing and oh god her  _ tongue _ . He stumbled and had barely gotten two buttons open when she got impatient, grabbing onto his hips and bringing him closer, wrapping one of her legs around his. He groaned and kissed her, heat spreading through his body as she moaned into his mouth. And he pulled at her blouse until the buttons started coming undone. It wasn’t until he heard the stitches tear and her gasp that he realized what he’d done. Eyes wide with shock, he looked to her to see if she’d be angry. But River’s pupils were blown so wide he couldn’t even see the green of her eyes. The lace of her bra heaving, she looked ravenous.  _ I was starting to think you didn’t have it in you, Doctor. _ He looked confused suddenly. She kissed that right off him. 

“So?” Yaz prodded, shattering the Doctor’s daydream. 

“I don’t have a phone,” she admitted helplessly.

“She gave you a business card right? Just stop by her office,” Yaz offered with a shrug. The Doctor sighed, staring down at her plate. She knew this would be the logical progression of the conversation. 

And part of her desperately wanted River to know her, to wrap her wife in her arms and kiss her senseless because she was  _ here _ ,  _ right now _ and that was just the kind of person the Doctor was this time. But the other part of her, with tingling fear at the corners of her mind like the scurrying of rats in the dark, told her not to. Big flashing danger signs with red, angry  _ s tay away _ _s_ and  _turn back while you can s. Time can be rewritten. Not those times, not one line. Don’t you dare._ And the Doctor, on the very fabric of the universe, wouldn’t dare. 

Especially not the events leading up to Darillium, not Hydroflax, not even Ramone, and certainly not River and her ridiculous sonic trowel. Seeing River be so brilliantly River without the influence of the Doctor had been a rare and gorgeous sight that she would treasure for the rest of her life. It had taught the Doctor something about her, about himself, about the way she saw him, and how he’d treated her. And if River knew the Doctor had another set of regenerations, faces she hadn’t seen, she’d suspect Eyebrows miles off.

“Guess it can’t hurt too much,” she finally answered, a weak smile on her lips. Yaz frowned. 

“Hurt you or hurt the universe?” She was starting to catch on then. 

“Does it matter?” the Doctor asked. Yaz sighed and leaned back in her chair, cocking her head at the Doctor. 

“Who is she, Doctor?” 

The Doctor hesitated. Yaz was impossibly young, and the last thing the Doctor wanted was for her to feel like she had to carry the Doctor’s pain around with her or feel guilty for not being able to do anything about it. She thought time and distance and a new face would help her talk about River more, but she found herself burying those feelings even further down the older she got.

“Morning, you lot,” Graham said suddenly as he entered the kitchen before the Doctor could answer Yaz, clad in flannel pajama bottoms and a gray tee shirt. Amy would have called it an old man outfit. “Those painkillers, Doc, wow. I feel fantastic,” he laughed opening his arms as he walked to make himself a cup of coffee. 

“Glad they could help,” the Doctor offered with a smile, leaning back in her chair. Yaz just eyed her, and she knew the conversation wasn’t over yet. Really, the Doctor knew they were all curious, and she didn’t blame them. She rarely talked about her past, and to have a piece of it right in front of their faces was too tempting to ignore. 

“I was just telling the Doctor that she should pay for River Song’s dry cleaning,” Yaz told Graham without taking her eyes off the Doctor. 

“Oh gosh, I forgot about her,” Graham breathed, walking to sit down with her and Yaz, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. “Probably should, Doc,” he nodded to her. She huffed, her chest tightening. She certainly didn’t  _ have _ to do anything, but part of her certainly  _ wanted _ to. Perhaps a bit like the debacle with Hydroflax, the thrill of the chase.

“Probably right,” the Doctor echoed. “How’s my eye?” she asked, glancing between them. Yaz and Graham just looked at each other. 

“Some makeup would do you good,” Yaz winced at her, and the Doctor deflated. 

“ _ Or _ you could wear it as a badge of honor, eh?” Graham asked encouragingly.

“Whatever you like,” Yaz nodded. River had always teased the Doctor for being delicate. She liked to remind him when he was being annoying that she could snap his arm like a twig. Would be nice for River to see her being a bit tough. 

“Right, better get dressed then. Big day,” she sighed, standing up and taking her plate to the sink. “Don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but if you lot want to go into town don’t wait up. Oh, also, they use credits in the 52nd century. I should have some stored up on my card. The TARDIS’ll give it to you if you ask nicely. Don’t get into any trouble!” she called as she nearly bounded out of the kitchen. 

“When do we ever?” Yaz called back, but she was already gone. She turned her attention to Graham. “How’s your ankle?” 

“Bit sore but should be fine,” he shrugged and took a drink of his coffee, bit of cream and no sugar. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Bit shaken, to be honest,” she admitted, sighing. Graham nodded solemnly. After everything with Yaz’s grandma, the two of them had gotten closer, forged a sort of quiet understanding. “We almost died, Graham.” 

“The Doc looked proper scared,” Graham affirmed, and Yaz frowned, fiddling with her fork. 

“She never looks like that. No matter where we are or how much danger we’re in. Never. I was starting to think the Doctor just doesn’t  _ get _ scared,” she half laughed, but it was pained, and Graham frowned. 

“Awful as it sounds, it actually makes me feel safer to know that she does,” Graham told her, and she looked up. Yaz supposed he was right about that. “Anyway, I have a feeling we’re about to get a lot of firsts on Luna,” he sighed. 

“River?” Yaz clarified, and he nodded. “Who is she? The Doctor won’t tell me.” 

“God only knows. I can’t imagine not meeting someone in the right order. The secrets you’d have to keep,” he clicked his tongue and shook his head. Yaz furrowed her brow, looking thoughtful. 

“There’s something else though. When the Doctor talks about her it’s like it physically hurts.” 

“Happens when you lose someone.” Yaz fell silent at that. 

“Why do people stop travelling with the Doctor? I can’t even think about going back now.” 

“Maybe they don’t go back,” Graham suggested.

“We do tend to get in a lot of trouble.” 

“An’ she  _ did _ warn us before we started travelling with her,” Graham added, and Yaz frowned. An uncomfortable silence settled between them. They didn’t know how to rationalize that particular fear away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow another chapter! i'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments! it was sad boi hours this time, but next chapter we'll get some actual plot i promise lol. also what do you think about the doctor's sentient arm? does it deserve its own one shot?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the only thing this pandemic has given me besides heaps of anxiety on top of the anxiety i already have is more time to write. i hope you enjoy!

When the Doctor examined herself in the mirror, finally twanging her braces against her shoulders, she wondered what River would think about her fashion choices this time. She scrunched her nose and turned to the side, scrutinizing the curves and angles she had yet to explore in this body. Well, she was still the Doctor, so River would probably call the outfit ridiculous on principle. She smiled to herself at the thought of such a familiar gesture, the amused appraising of her clothes followed by swift and often violent rejection. 

She took a breath and shoved her hands in her pockets. Business card, check. Credits, check. Sonic...not check? Right. She’d broken it in the crash. Probably for the best. Didn’t want River getting any ideas about her identity. With confidence she had no business having when it came to River Song, the Doctor strode out of the TARDIS before she lost her nerve. And she certainly didn’t need to check River’s business card to know where her office was. It was a nice corner room on the third floor of the archeology building with a mahogany desk and a deep sofa and a patterned rug, not unlike the one the Doctor had when he was Scottish and angry. Admittedly, River had only gotten the office after schmoozing the faculty for a few months and conveniently bringing back the finest artifacts from digs that no one had expected to be as fruitful as they were. She won awards for her work, and most of it was well earned. But having a vortex manipulator certainly made bringing back rare artifacts much easier.

The Doctor had told River once that she cheated at archeology, and River had gotten so offended she didn’t speak to him for weeks. In all fairness to River, it hadn’t been the nicest thing he could have said after she’d accepted the offer of a permanent professorial position at the university. It had just slipped out of his stupid mouth in one of his rambling tangents that had nothing to do with anything. River’s face had fallen so fast it was like a slap to the cheek. And she was good at making those sting. He’d done everything he could think of to make up for it, and when she finally let him back into her office she called him stupid and told him that sometimes he acted exactly how old he looked which was twelve.

What if River wasn’t even in her office? Would she have to go looking for her? Would it be odd to stand outside her door and wait for her? Maybe River didn’t even want to see her again. She  _ had _ spilled tea all over her.  _ What a great first impression, Doctor. Good job. _ By the time she was outside River’s door her hearts were pounding in her chest, head swimming. She hadn’t been this nervous around River since the Byzantium. She swallowed. It would be fine. She was capable of this. Wasn’t it just like any other time she saw River, all the spoilers, the hurt, the way they fit together like long forgotten puzzle pieces. Maybe that was a bit dramatic, but after Darillium, seeing River was like a punch to the gut and coming home all at the same time. With a hesitant fist, she knocked on the door. She heard shuffling papers inside and then a muffled “Come in!” 

She took a breath and steeled herself, turning the knob and peering in. “Hi. Me again,” she said with an awkward laugh, nose scrunched, as she sidestepped her way through the door and closed it behind her. River frowned at her and set down her pen. 

“I’m sorry, who—” 

“Yesterday. In the café I ran...straight into you, spilled your tea…” the Doctor offered, motioning to her shirt, trying to jumpstart her memory. She had to admit that stung, watching River remember her like a stranger. 

“Right, of course. Black eye should’ve given it away,” she gasped out a laugh and then sighed, shaking her head, “It’s been a day, I’m afraid. I’m rather swamped with paperwork. You know it…” she eyed the Doctor over once, “would have been polite to call ahead of time.” 

“Don’t have a phone,” she shrugged, and it wasn’t strictly a lie. The TARDIS was where she took all of her calls. River arched an eyebrow at her. The Doctor wondered if this new body could do that too. She let her eyes travel down River’s eyebrow to the curve of her cheek and the angle of her jaw, remembering how that skin had felt under her previous body’s fingers. Soft and satiny and River would swat him away on Darillium with a humiliated little tut as she turned her head away.  _ Oh, don’t look at them _ _._ She’d moan, and he’d frown so deep she often told him he’d split his face right in half if he didn’t stop.  _ Your face? _ He’d ask like the daft old man he was.  _ The wrinkles, you idiot _ _._ She almost laughed, brushing him off when he tried to pull her wrist back.  _ River _ _._ He’d chastise so gently, with such mournfulness, that she’d turn with the intention of soothing, an automatic and—as much as the Doctor hated to admit—conditioned reaction to his pain.  _ You don’t need to hide from me _ _._ The memory made an ache she hadn’t felt in a long time blossom in her chest. 

“That’s quite unfortunate,” River offered awkwardly, and the Doctor snapped out of her daze with flushed cheeks. She’d forgotten for a moment that she was just a stranger who’d shown up in River’s office.  _ Incredibly inappropriate, Doctor .  _

“I make do.  _ Anyway _ , I was wondering if I could steal you away for lunch? My treat. I just feel awful about yesterday,” she furrowed her brow, leaning forward on her toes and then rocking back on her heels. River eyed her up and down and leaned back in her chair. 

“I really don’t have much time this afternoon,” she breathed, motioning to the swaths of paperwork littering her desk. Before the Doctor could protest, the door opened behind her and a man in a button down and slacks strode in. He looked impatient, perhaps anxious, as his oxfords clicked on the hardwood. 

“River, we need to talk. Your—” River coughed suddenly, cocking her head to the Doctor. The man turned his head and caught her gaze, dark hair falling into his forehead, graying around the temples. He had a five o’clock shadow and bags under his brown eyes, looked like he hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a frighteningly long time. “Didn’t realize you had company,” he breathed, forcing a smile and extending his hand to her. She shook it. He had a firm grip. He’d called River by her first name. “Len Morley.” 

“Th—Jane Sinclair,” she said, swooping into the J hoping no one would notice as she choked back an automatic response of  _ The Doctor _ _._

“I didn’t think we had anything else to talk about, Len,” River said then, voice lilting up, and the Doctor glanced at her. She was trying very hard to be patient, but the Doctor could see the annoyance bubbling underneath from years of experience dissecting those same expressions. 

“I just worry—”

“Oh, I’m quite aware,” she laughed humorlessly, “and as much as I would love to get into that again, I’m actually very busy right now,” she breathed, turning her attention to the Doctor who perked up at the eye contact, raising her brow and pointing to herself. 

“Me?” 

“We were just about to head out for lunch, weren’t we?” River encouraged, and the Doctor nodded dumbly, turning to Len. 

“Right, yep, that’s us.  _ Lunching _ together,” she joked, laughing and leaning back, nose scrunched. River blinked slowly and inhaled deeply, turning back to Len expectantly, a tight smile on her lips. She didn’t seem quite happy about either situation, rather exasperated with her actually, and the Doctor tried not to let her disappointment show. 

“Okay. I guess we’ll talk after lunch,” Len said hesitantly, turning to leave.

“You bet,” River breathed with faux enthusiasm as he turned to the Doctor. 

“Nice meeting you, Jane.” 

“You too, Len,” she offered cheerfully, and as soon as the door closed behind Len, River let out a sigh and leaned back in her chair. 

“Christ, what a bore. Man’s gonna give himself an ulcer if he worries any more,” she groaned and then stood up. “Right, well, let’s go before he comes back.” She ushered the Doctor out the door and locked her office behind her. This felt a lot like running, and the Doctor could feel the excitement well up inside her, old feelings bubbling through and taking over. 

“Perfect. Love a good escape plan. I know a great restaurant two blocks from here.” 

“The Travista?” River asked as they walked out of the building. The Doctor nodded. 

“It was one of the first restaurants built on Luna. Been owned by the original family for generations.  _ And _ they have slushies.” 

“Slushies?” River scoffed, eyeing her and then the intersection as they crossed the street. She was glad River was paying attention because all the Doctor seemed to be able to do was stare at River’s eyes, captivating as ever, that twinkling green that never dulled. “Are you twelve?”

“No, but I seem to be getting that a lot again,” the Doctor muttered and just barely refrained from adding  _ in this body _ _._ Thankfully, River was too preoccupied opening the door to The Travista to hear the Doctor’s half bitter commentary. The teasing had been fun when she’d been a person who couldn’t control his limbs and had hair that was incapable of staying in one place, but the Doctor felt a little jilted now, like she had earned some kind of maturity. Though by what standards, she wasn’t sure. 

By the time they’d been seated, River had told the Doctor that she and Len Morley were joint team leaders on a recent archeological dig she’d supervised. Though he was overly cautious and paranoid, she had to admit that he was also meticulous and attentive, which is why the Dean had placed them together. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m good at what I do, but Len is...well he just doesn’t have that spirit for adventure. Or the instinct to follow it,” she admitted, glancing through the drink menu. 

“And you do?” the Doctor asked. River looked up from the menu at her. 

“Oh my dear, you have no idea,” she smirked, and a shiver ran down the Doctor’s spine. Good to know River could still do that to her. Didn’t feel quite as wonderful as sweetie, but it would do. The Doctor found herself smiling, slow and knowing as it filled her with a warmth she’d forgotten how to miss. River eyed her curiously, a curious spark lingering on her own lips. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” the Doctor asked too quickly as she smoothed down the napkin on her lap.

“Your spirit for adventure. Must have one somewhere.”

“Why do you say that?” River nodded toward her face. 

“The black eye. There must be a story. Always is. And you and your brother, your friends, they looked rather worse for wear yesterday. You said it was an inanimate object so I’m guessing some kind of accident?” River inquired, resting her arms on the table and scrutinizing the Doctor.

“My ship was damaged. Bit of an emergency landing,” she admitted, shrugging her shoulders, because half truths were easier than real lies. River raised her brow but didn’t inquire further. She knew someone who had secrets when she saw them and River Song, of all people, knew how to respect that. 

They fell into silence as they looked over the menu, and the Doctor watched her out of the corner of her eye. She watched her lashes dart over the lunch options, nails picking absently at the stitching in the menu. Funny enough, River was a fiddler. She’d only found that out on Darillium when River had finally stopped performing for him. Her perfect posture, eyes, and deadly smirk fell away to reveal something softer and less grounded than he’d ever realized. Over the years there had been glimpses, but his fickle distracted mind had always dismissed it as a passing distress rather than a constant underlay. He should have listened to River more, really saw her. 

She watched River frown and part her lips then close them again and brush a curl from her eyes. She squinted, just a bit, and adjusted the menu so it was upright instead of laying on the table. The Doctor cocked her head and watched as River swallowed and followed the words on the menu too closely to be natural. Her eyes were trying to focus. The Doctor couldn’t help wondering where her glasses were. She’d had a pair on Darillium. At first she’d only worn them when she thought the Doctor wasn’t home, embarrassed at the lines on her face and the gray at her temples and the eyes that were starting to fail her. He’d always thought she looked breathtaking in them, lovely little half moon gold frames that sat on her nose as she looked down at her book. And he told her so until she felt comfortable enough to wear them in front of him, sheepish at first, pushing his soft little smiles away with blushes and punches. How old was River now that she was starting to need glasses? 

“Right, what can I get you ladies to drink?” the waitress asked suddenly, and the Doctor looked up, wondering when she’d gotten there. Ladies?  _ Right _ _._

“I’ll have the lavender tea. Thank you,” River said, giving the waitress a tight smile. Then she looked to the Doctor and caught the twinkle in her eye long enough to scoff. “Don’t you dare,” she warned. 

“Don’t know what you’re on about. I’ll have the blue raspberry slushie, thank you,” she smiled, and as the waitress left she turned back to River. “What is blue raspberry anyway? Doesn’t taste like raspberries  _ or _ blueberries. Though some planets grow  _ literal _ blue raspberries. It’s ‘cause of the way the light filters through the atmosphere. Tastes exactly the same. Disappointing, really,” she admitted, scrunching her nose and curling her lip in mild disgust, glancing down at nothing.

“You’re a child,” River laughed helplessly. 

“Oi, I have a blackeye!” the Doctor protested, pointing to it. 

“Is that supposed to make you more  _ mature _ _?_ ” 

“A bit tougher, I’d say,” the Doctor countered defensively, tugging on her jacket. 

“Have you  _ ever _ had a black eye before?” River asked, eyes twinkling. The Doctor watched as River searched her eyes and suddenly fell short of lying. There was no point when River already knew the answer. Was the Doctor really that transparent? “I thought not. Now shut up and drink your god awful slushie. It’s melting.” 

The Doctor huffed and drank from the straw defiantly, pondering the ethics of Time Lord regenerative healing rates. She could fix all those little ailments in a matter of seconds if she was willing to lose a few regenerative fingers down the line. She’d done it with River before, sitting on a set of stairs in the heart of New York amid angels. Seeing her in pain had been unbearable, the blind terror in her eyes after he’d pulled on her hand, the blood dripping from her pinky, the way her chest heaved, and the terrible way she’d been so scared of letting him down. He’d healed her for an immeasurable amount of reasons. Because pain proved she was fallible. Because he’d ignored the tightening of fixed time in his chest, and her bloody wrist had just confirmed how inevitable the night had become. Because her pain reminded him of Melody. Because he needed her functioning at 100 instead of 70. Now, the Doctor was letting her injuries fester, had never let herself get a black eye until now, because she felt guilty. Because it reminded her that her friends would feel pain for weeks, that they were more delicate than her, that she was reckless. 

Meanwhile Yaz, Graham, and Ryan had been wandering downtown Luna for a bit now, looking through shop windows and watching the students and appraising the stuffy old buildings. Graham still had a brace on his ankle, but it was just a sprain, and he’d taken some of those painkillers the Doctor told him about before they left. She and Ryan had offered to get him crutches or a wheelchair and even told him to stay back and rest, but Graham was tough and stubborn, and he wasn’t about to be left behind. 

“Walkin’ through a campus like this always makes me wish I’d gone to university,” Graham mused. 

“I dunno. This is way too smart for me,” Ryan said, looking up and around, a bit overwhelmed at the thought, brows knotted. 

“Don’t say that,” Graham chastised, looking at him. “You can do anything you put your mind to. But there’s no shame in not going to uni either.” 

“Yeah, I just went straight into the police academy,” Yaz added, nodding at Graham. “If you’re doing what you love it doesn’t really matter,” she shrugged right as the sun hit her eyes. She raised a hand to block it and looked around. It really was a beautiful place, and it looked and felt like Earth. Sometimes Yaz wished she could say something smart about a place like  _ the gravity here’s Earth normal _ _,_ dropping little tidbits about planets the way the Doctor did, like she could just sense it. Well, the gravity here did feel pretty normal. It was probably artificial. That was a thing, right? They’d gone out shortly after the Doctor left, wanting to explore. They were at a university on the moon in the 52nd century, of course they weren’t going to stay cooped up on the TARDIS until the Doctor got back from seeing River Song. 

She wondered how River had started traveling with the Doctor. How did anyone? Did the Doctor drop out of the sky and carry her along on a wild adventure? Knowing the Doctor, something like that seemed the most likely. Yaz was curious, of course, and that investigative spark she carried around roared into a tall flame, but something was wrong. Yaz wasn’t selfish enough to believe she and Graham and Ryan were the first people the Doctor’s ever traveled with, but it was troubling to her that the Doctor felt so much pain surrounding River. There were things the Doctor wasn’t telling her, and it just made Yaz worry about her own fate. How many people had the Doctor lost? What did that mean? And when would it be her turn? 

“I don’t know about any of you, but I could go for some lunch right now,” Graham said suddenly, and Yaz and Ryan glanced at each other. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty hungry,” Ryan shrugged, and Yaz nodded. They continued to wander, knowing they’d stumble into a restaurant eventually. “How do you think the Doctor’s doing by herself?” Ryan asked then, almost laughing. 

“I think she can handle herself,” Graham nodded, and Yaz chuckled. 

“Yeah, but around River Song? You saw her yesterday. Could barely form a coherent sentence,” she protested, and Graham gave her that, tilting his head to her. They fell into another silence, contemplative this time, until Ryan spoke up again. 

“What do you think the Doctor was like before she met us?” 

“Well remember when we first met she said she’d been a white haired Scotsman thirty minutes before,” Yaz offered helplessly, and Ryan scoffed, shaking his head. 

“Probably should’ve given her the benefit of the doubt, right? She  _ had _ just fallen through the roof of a train,” Ryan joked. 

“An’ she did say  _ straight up _ that she was an alien,” Yaz shrugged with pursed lips and a cocked head, holding back a smile. 

“I think the Doc has probably always been the Doc no matter what face she has...or had,” Graham said, more seriously, and Ryan and Yaz nodded at that, though it was difficult for any of them to fully accept it. A white haired Scotsman wasn’t  _ their _ Doctor, and the whole concept was too abstract for them to truly understand what it meant to regenerate. Not that the Doctor had given them any useful details. 

“Would we even recognize the Doctor if we saw one of her other faces?” Yaz asked hesitantly, posing a question they’d been too afraid to ask.

“River Song didn’t,” Ryan answered with a shrug. Graham looked troubled, but he didn’t have anything to counter that with, so they fell into another silence. They walked a few blocks, pretending to look at things, lost in their own heads, when Ryan suddenly stopped them. “Guys, look,” he nearly whispered, and they turned to the storefront they were standing by. “It’s them.” 

The Doctor was sitting in a restaurant at a table across from River Song. Their food was mostly gone, and the Doctor was talking about  _ something _ _,_ her face bright and hands motioning to this and that. River had her legs crossed under the table, making the occasional comment. She was more reserved than the Doctor, more reserved than the three of them when they listened to the Doctor’s tangents, but she didn’t look bored. 

“I thought she was just gonna pay for her dry cleaning,” Ryan pointed out. 

“When does anything with the Doctor ever go to plan?” Graham countered. That was when River turned and saw them. She raised an eyebrow and smirked, turning back to the Doctor. She said something to her, and then the Doctor was looking out the window too. She waved to them, her face lighting up, and they gave hesitant waves back, suddenly embarrassed. But the Doctor motioned for them to come inside, and they did. She was standing and waiting for them when they entered, and Yaz smiled awkwardly. 

“Hiya gang! Pull up some chairs. Have a seat. Do you mind, River?” the Doctor asked, turning to her as if suddenly remembering she was there. River looked surprised and blinked, shaking her head and scoffing. 

“The more the merrier, I suppose. I’m certainly in no hurry,” she admitted, and there was a tiredness behind her words that had Yaz curious. The Doctor jumped around to nearby tables and pulled up three extra chairs until they were all squished together around empty plates and a nice tablecloth. 

“These are my friends Yaz and Graham. My brother Ryan,” she said, motioning to the three of them. “And this is Professor River Song,” she announced, smiling at them and then River who reciprocated politely. To Yaz’s eyes, there was quite a large divide between the Doctor’s enthusiasm and Professor Song’s polite but distant confusion.

“It’s nice to properly meet you. Jane told me your ship took some damage. I hope you’re all alright,” she said, and it took a moment for Yaz to remember who Jane was. 

“We’re fine. Our ship not so much,” Yaz supplied. 

“But I’m an excellent mechanic,” the Doctor interjected quickly. “Should be able to get her up and running within a couple weeks.” 

“The damage must be quite extensive if it’s going to take that long to fix,” River added hesitantly, glancing between them. “You should take your ship to the maintenance bay here. They’re excellent. Or so I’ve heard. I prefer to travel light, myself,” she admitted, and there was a mischievous sort of glint in her eyes, much too satisfied with herself. Yaz had no idea what that meant, but the Doctor seemed to because her eyes flickered from River’s empty wrist to her eyes and back again. Curious. 

“Absolutely not,” the Doctor shook her head definitively, almost protective. “I don’t trust anyone else to do her justice.”

“Immature  _ and _ arrogant. Brilliant combo,” River retorted. 

“Immature?” the Doctor shot back, looking more offended than hurt. And  _ arrogant _ ? Yaz felt the need to defend the Doctor’s honor even though she was more than capable of doing it herself. Well, maybe that was the point. Maybe her arrogance only came off as humility. It had the first day they met her, facing up against Tim Shaw, that grand speech she proved to be so good at making over and over again. And with the time traveler in Alabama. And then again with the Solitract. The thought made her feel a bit uneasy, so she filed it away for now. 

“Need I remind you that you ordered a slushie at a restaurant,” River said, and Yaz figured that sounded about right for her.

“First of all, they’re delicious. Second of all, my ship’s a bit of a commodity right now, and I don’t need anyone taking advantage of that,” she admitted.

“All I’m hearing is that it's been stolen, and you’re running from the authorities,” River countered, glancing between the four of them. Ryan swallowed and made eye contact with Yaz who gave him a subtle shake of her head. Graham caught Yaz’s eye and raised his brow, so she looked to the Doctor. She was holding Professor’s Song’s confident, steady gaze with a half smile and no effort to correct her. Yaz wanted to strangle the Doctor in that moment. “Don’t worry,” River said then, a sly smirk on her face as she leaned back in her chair, “I’m not one to kiss and tell.” 

Yaz glanced at the Doctor and found her blushing and struggling to maintain eye contact.  _ Well that was new _ _._ It made something foreign and tight coil in her stomach. She’d never been at a loss for words in any confrontation they’ve been in since Yaz had known her. Not until River. 

“Why are you helping us?” Graham asked then, leaning forward. River looked a bit surprised at the question, as if she didn’t consider it helping and was shocked that someone would think otherwise. And then her face melted into a condescending smile. 

“Bless,” she drawled, “you’re new at this, aren’t you?” 

“I dragged them along,” the Doctor said quickly before anyone else could say anything. She must have known Yaz was about to open her mouth, ready to defend Graham. 

“Well, it’s always nice to have cooperative hostages,” River offered, wiping something nonexistent from the corner of her lips. Yaz watched as the Doctor traced River’s movements with a keen eye and nearly rolled her eyes. She glanced at Graham who raised his brow and seemed to be thinking something similar about the Doctor. 

“I take it you’re not new at this, then, eh?” Graham asked then, hesitant curiosity in his voice. River gave a noncommittal shrug and shifted in her seat. 

“I dabble.” 

“Professor of what exactly?” Ryan asked. 

“Archeology,” River responded, her eyes lighting up in a different way. 

“Why archeology?” Yaz asked too curiously, too quickly, and felt embarrassed at how interested she’d let herself become in Professor Song’s life. And River seemed to know it as a sly smile spread across her lips. 

“What better way to meet a good man?” she asked back, voice breathy and low, and Yaz could have sworn the Doctor blanched, throat bobbing as she swallowed. 

“Seems a bit shallow for a strong woman like yourself, don’t you think?” Yaz found herself asking. 

“Yaz,” the Doctor chastised, glancing from her to River and back again, an upset, almost panicked, look in her eyes. Yaz had forgotten that Professor Song used to travel with the Doctor and swallowed her pride for a moment.

“No, it’s alright. I like a spitfire,” River mused, looking Yaz over too slowly to be decent. “You’re young. It’s to be expected,” she told her with all the condescending authority of a parent. Yaz’s cheeks were burning, and the Doctor just squeezed her wrist under the table. “I used to be a lot like you,” she admitted then, some of the bite fading from her words, nearing nostalgia. The Doctor’s ears perked up at that, and Yaz looked at her. 

“Then what?” Ryan asked. 

“I got old,” she answered with a sigh. “Unlike your sister, here, who hasn’t quite grasped the concept of adulthood,” she said, changing the subject, and the Doctor rolled her eyes. 

“Graham, please help me out here?” 

“Might have to agree with Professor Song on this one,” Graham admitted, pressing his lips together tightly, apologetically. River laughed then, low and smooth like honey, and leaned forward in her chair. 

“Smart man,” she smirked, nodding and looking to the Doctor whose eyes had never left River’s. Yaz watched the Doctor closely, the quiet reverence in her eyes, a faint smile on her lips, that starry wonderment she floated through. But there was something heavy there too, rooting her to her chair. Was it fear? Of what? “If only I could get Len to learn the value of strategic agreement as well,” River mused, and though Yaz had no idea who she was talking about, the Doctor seemed to because she raised her brow. 

“Trouble in paradise?” she asked, and River scoffed. 

“It’s hardly paradise,” she rolled her eyes, shifting in her seat. “Though I don’t want to bore you all with the troubles of my job.” 

“Is he always that panicked?” the Doctor asked as she leaned forward, tilting her chin toward River, something shifting in her tone and her eyes. They were more appraising than they were before, the way she got when she thought something was wrong. 

“No, something...happened on our last dig. He’s a stickler for the rules, I’m afraid. Makes my job much more boring,” she sighed, rapping her fingers along the table. Yaz watched the Doctor make a thousand calculations in her head and even saw the exact moment something clicked for her and clicked well enough to make her take a breath, tapping her own finger decisively on the tablecloth. 

“Speaking of rules, I did hear that the security on Luna’s being tightened,” the Doctor ventured, and Yaz watched curiously as River pressed her lips together and swallowed, straightening her fork on her plate. 

“I’m sure it’s routine. Or who knows, Luna does get a surprising amount of threats,” River shrugged, and Yaz’s police training told her it was a deflection. 

“Often directed at the archeology department, I’m sure,” the Doctor countered, and River’s gaze shot to hers. Yaz tensed, knowing the comment had meant to get a rise out of Professor Song, though the Doctor’s motive was unclear. 

“And why’s that?” River challenged, and the Doctor shifted uncomfortably in her seat under River’s sharp gaze. 

“Well, archeology’s a tricky subject in the age of time travel. You could be stealing.” 

“Are you accusing?” 

“No! ‘Course not,” the Doctor scoffed, and Yaz caught Graham’s warning glance. The Doctor was treading in hot water, and they all seemed to feel it. 

“Well then I suggest you mind your own business and let the adults take care of it,” River shot back, eyes twinkling. The Doctor opened her mouth to protest, but before she could River was talking again. “Anyway, I’d best be off. As much as I’d prefer not to go back to work, I’m afraid Len is awaiting,” she mused, pushing back her chair and standing up. The Doctor quickly mirrored her actions, almost clumsily, in order to wish her goodbye. “It was nice to meet you all properly,” River said to the three of them, and they muttered some agreement before all attention was directed toward the Doctor who seemed to have lost the ability to speak properly. 

“I know I didn’t make the greatest first impression. Or really a second. But I didn’t mean to offend. I meant to  _ help _ _._ Actually,” she stumbled, going through a different stage of grief with each sentence. 

“By sharing insider information?” River prodded, and the Doctor nodded. “Why would you want to help me? You don’t even know me.” There was something profoundly skeptical in her words that seemed to hit the Doctor harder than Yaz expected, but she masked it quickly. 

“You’re keeping our secret. I’ll keep yours,” the Doctor offered, and River took a long moment to eye her up and down, no doubt wondering about their status as self proclaimed fugitives. 

“So all that’s left to settle then is my dry cleaning. You take lunch, and I’ll call us even,” River countered. 

“Perfect,” the Doctor confirmed with a decisive nod. A smirk grew on River’s face, and she chuckled once, tongue dragging across her teeth as she contemplated the Doctor and her ragtag bunch. 

“Once your ship’s repaired, if you ask  _ nicely _ _,_ I might be able to get you off Luna without security noticing.” River added. 

“I think that would make us the opposite of even,” the Doctor countered, bouncing on the balls of her feet, not seeming to register the fact that that was River’s intention. 

“Goodbye, Jane,” River breathed. 

“Bye, River,” the Doctor said back, watching as River brushed past her and out the door. The bell jingled behind River, and the Doctor was grinning from ear to ear. 

“She was  _ flirting _ with you,” Ryan chuckled, whacking the Doctor on the arm. Startled back to reality, she swallowed and sat back down as the smile fell from her cheeks. 

“Flirting? What, no. No, no, no. That’s just how River talks.” 

“By flirting?” Yaz clarified skeptically. It was rather hard to miss which, she supposed, spoke to the Doctor’s general cluelessness when it came to social cues. 

“I know flirting when I see it,” Graham confirmed, raising his brow and nodding decisively. Ryan pretended to gag, and Graham rolled his eyes at him. The Doctor looked confused, nose scrunched as she turned to her friends. 

“Was I flirting back?” 

“Not well,” Ryan breathed, and Graham chuckled and shook his head in agreement. “You just stared at her all starry eyed.” 

“Brilliant,” the Doctor breathed, embarrassed. “Do you think she noticed?” 

“For your sake, I hope not,” Ryan told her, leaning over and patting her on the shoulder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the plot thickens lol. combined a few chapter drafts to create this very large one. hope you liked it and would love to hear your thoughts in the comments!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends! here's another chapter. i took some liberties with my limited knowledge of intergalactic politics lmao. also wanted to take a moment to thank everyone that's taken the time to leave a comment on any/all of the chapters. i really appreciate it and LOVE to hear from you whether it's a key smash or a whole paragraph you're amazing

The four of them left soon after River did, the Doctor distracted again as they made their way out into the afternoon sun. Yaz, Ryan, and Graham were eyeing her as she pushed the door open, letting them reach out to get it as she strode onto the sidewalk ahead of them. The flirting hadn’t quite registered with her yet, so she pushed it aside to focus on the more interesting bits, the confusing ones. 

“Do you think whatever’s going on with Professor Song and her coworker has anything to do with what that doctor said to you in the hospital? About the security at Luna?” Yaz called as they caught up with her. The Doctor folded her arms over her middle and rubbed her thumb along the pads of her fingers, trying to process. 

“Not sure. Knowing River, probably. She said something happened on her last dig, and she was surprised when I mentioned security tightening,” the Doctor muttered, glancing at them. 

“How would archeology put a whole university on alert?” Ryan asked. “I mean it’s not like you get much action digging up bones,” he chuckled, and Graham nodded with him. 

“Yeah, Doc, bit lost on that one.” 

The Doctor winced and dropped her arms, shifting from one foot to the other, “In the 52nd century, time travel is highly regulated and often very illegal. After the Time Agency was disbanded, vortex manipulators started leaking out into the public amid a thriving black market of time travel equipment,” she scoffed with a disapproving shake of her head. Had she given them the time travel is immensely dangerous speech yet? Best store that thought away for later. “River got her hands on a vortex manipulator a while back. Krasko had one too, in Alabama, remember?” she asked, and they nodded, wondering if they were supposed to make the connection between vortex manipulators and dangerous criminals. “She’s been known to use it on expeditions to... _ supplement _ her team’s findings.” 

“I didn’t think it was possible to cheat at archeology,” Graham scoffed. 

“It’s not cheating, per se. Well...it  _ is _ cheating, but don’t ever say that to her face. Learned that one the hard way,” the Doctor muttered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Yaz had picked up on her quick defense of River’s actions, her gaze flickering to the Doctor too quickly and too sharply to go unnoticed.

“But how would anyone even know she’d used a vortex manipulator?” Yaz asked instead, frowning, and the Doctor was thankful not to have opened that can of worms quite yet. Though, she was starting to realize it was becoming more and more inevitable. She often wondered how far she’d be able to push her friends away before they left her, and she was exceptionally good at covering that sinking fear with double her usual enthusiasm. 

“Luna probably has an energy field around the perimeter to detect spikes in arton particles. It’s not uncommon for a government sponsored university during the time travel ban,” she mused, losing herself for a moment. 

“Then why are you frowning?” Ryan asked, and she snapped her attention to them. She didn’t realize she had been, but something was bothering her, puzzle pieces she was having trouble fitting together. 

“River’s been using her vortex manipulator to get in and out of Luna for  _ decades _ . Why would it cause a problem now? And Len. Where does he fit into all this?” 

“Should we look into it?” Yaz asked, a bit hopeful. The Doctor hesitated. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing River can’t handle. Besides I don’t want to muddy our timelines any more than I have to,” she muttered, breezing past them down the street. 

“That just sounds like an excuse to me,” Graham called to her as they scrambled to keep up with her pace. The Doctor could feel their eyes on her back. She stopped, too abruptly, and turned to them. 

“If there is a perimeter field around Luna like I think there is, we have a bigger issue to deal with right now. If her vortex manipulator is spiking their readings, what do you think the TARDIS did to them?” she asked the three of them. None had an answer, but they knew from the Doctor’s face that it wasn’t anything good. “Come on, we have to get back. Quicker the better.” 

By the time they reached the TARDIS, Graham’s pain meds were starting to wear off, and he was having a difficult time keeping up. Yaz and Ryan had trailed a bit behind the Doctor to help him, and they’d been talking in hushed tones behind her as she marched forward. Though she hadn’t quite been listening in, she knew their conversation was most certainly about River. Their speculations felt invasive to the Doctor who squirmed from their appraising looks. She’d seen her friends become burdened with her past, and she’d promised herself that that wasn’t going to happen this time. She could be new and clean and fresh faced with a grin that could make even the Doctor herself forget. Being here with River was starting to remind her that it was nothing more than a mask. 

Once they were safely inside, the Doctor shed her coat and started collecting tools by the armful, scooping up the goggles she’d stolen from that wearhouse during her first night on Earth. When Grace was still alive. She made quick work of settling down underneath the still charred console, popping on the goggles and getting to work without so much as a word to her friends. She saw them share a glance out of the corner of her eye.

“What’s going on, Doc?” Graham asked, frowning. 

“I just have to make sure the perception filter and dampers are working properly before we get Luna security guards knocking on the door,” she called, flat on her back as she dug through the circuitry. She actually felt a bit stupid for not making sure those systems were secure and functioning before waltzing off to see River earlier that day. Funny how easily she could distract the Doctor in this new body, one she was beginning to see possessed the terribly embarrassing excitement of Bowtie and the tender discipline of Eyebrows when it came to her. 

“Dampers?” Yaz asked, crouching next to her, her knee popping near the Doctor’s ear.

“They can mask the artron particles the TARDIS gives off. Like a perception filter for energy readings,” she explained, waving her pliers around haphazardly. 

“Do you need any help?” Ryan asked, shuffling closer. She paused and took off her goggles, eyeing the three of them upside down, so eager to assist. 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” she said, forcing a smile. “This shouldn’t take too long. And after, I can give you a real tour of the university, eh fam?” 

There was a pause, and then Graham pressed his lips together. 

“So long as everything’s under control, I think I’m gonna make myself a sandwich. Have a rest. Ice and elevate, that sort of thing,” Graham explained, and the Doctor frowned. 

“Right, yeah, no problem,” she breathed, her smile faltering. It was moments like these where she felt like something might be wrong with her. There was an effortlessness in other people that had never quite clicked with her. She was excellent at playing other people like a game of chess, sorting out pressure points and commanding a room with endless nothings. But the languid subtleties of interpersonal communication were lost on her ever racing mind. Though this wasn’t a new phenomenon for any of her faces, it had been a long time since she’d felt so hopelessly inadequate because of it.

“Food sounds  _ really _ good right now,” Ryan added with a loose smile. “Doctor, you owe us a real dinner downtown,” he called pointing back at her as he and Graham made their way to the TARDIS kitchen. Yaz drew closer as the room emptied, settling down next to the Doctor as she worked. 

She didn’t say anything right away, so the Doctor felt pressured to fill the silence. She glanced up at Yaz with the intention of speaking, not quite knowing what but figuring her mouth could work that out as it went, only to find Yaz’s posture relaxed, eyes light and curious as she fiddled with the laces on her boots. So the Doctor snapped her mouth shut and went back to work, realizing that she was the only one feeling anxious. It probably had something to do with the fact that she was incapable of sitting still or living linearly and often expected others to feel the same restlessness she did. 

Time passed quickly when the Doctor started to lose herself in the mechanics. The dampers had only been functioning at half capacity after the crash, something she was going to keep to herself for the time being. The good news was that the perception filter was fine, so even if Luna had detected any artron readings from the TARDIS, no one wouldn’t be able to find it. Yaz scratched at the grating under the console for a while, distracting the Doctor ever so often with the bobbing of her knee as she sat criss cross by the Doctor’s head. 

“Doctor, can I ask you something?” Yaz said finally, and the Doctor hummed in response, refitting the final pieces of the dampers. “Why did River stop travelling with you?” 

The Doctor frowned as she shoved the paneling back in place with a loud click, pulling the goggles down around her neck as she looked up at Yaz. “It was just time,” she shrugged, dragging herself out from under the console, pulling her toolkit with her, and it wasn’t strictly a lie. She sat next to Yaz, legs splayed out while Yaz’s were tightly folded. 

“You know that’s not a real answer,” Yaz said slowly, looking her over. The Doctor sighed and pressed her palms into the floor behind her. There was a tinge of something else in Yaz’s voice that had the Doctor interested, though. 

“Why’re you so curious?”

“Why do you always have to deflect?” Yaz asked back, and the Doctor raised her brow. Yaz sighed, shoulders slumping as she picked at her shoe laces. “‘M sorry. Look I know you don’t like talking about your past or whatever, but River is a living breathing part of that. You can’t expect us to not ask you about it.” 

“Just because you ask doesn’t mean I’m obligated to answer,” the Doctor offered, her voice getting flatter and more distant, and Yaz stiffened. “Do you really want to know about River or are you just curious about someone else traveling with me?” The Doctor definitely took a chance asking that question, but it paid off when Yaz pressed her lips together and turned her head down and away just slightly.

“Is there a difference?” 

“What is it you really want to ask?” 

Yaz paused and took a deep breath. “I know we aren’t the first people you’ve swept up with you,” she started, tentatively meeting the Doctor’s eyes. “And I  _ know _ that they loved this just as much I do,” she said as if speaking for some collective consciousness of companions. The Doctor  _ did _ have a type. “They can’t all have left willingly.” 

There was a heavy silence between them when Yaz finished, and even that delicate skirting of the question left something unspoken. The Doctor’s face fell, and she sat upright, slowly brushing the rubble from the indents in her palms. 

“You’re right,” the Doctor said, voice softer than usual. A heaviness nestled deeper into her bones the longer she sat with Yaz’s words, and they ached with all the years she’d been alive. “It’s dangerous to travel with me, Yaz. And I don’t mean that in a frivolous way or to scare you. I mean every time you step foot in my TARDIS you might not come back. You might  _ never _ see your family again. There are things worse than death out there, and I can’t always protect you from them,” she told her, searching her eyes for any sign of real understanding. Yaz looked unsettled, but the Doctor wasn’t convinced she really understood. If she did—if she was smart—she wouldn’t travel with the Doctor ever again.

“Is that what happened to River,” Yaz swallowed, something thick and heavy in her throat, “a fate worse than death?” 

Rory had told the Doctor something once when all those little black cubes had dropped in out of nowhere, buried in a conversation that had started innocently enough. “You seen River lately?” 

Caught off guard and a little panicked, the Doctor wrung his hands together, feet tapping out a soft, incomprehensible rhythm as the TV played in the background. Rory’s status as father in law was rarely lost on him, but he hadn’t used that power to put the fear of god into the Doctor since after Melody tried to kill Hitler, and he wouldn’t use it again until they all reunited in Manhattan. 

“No, not since Lake Silencio and the aborted timeline,” he rattled off, unwilling to use the word marriage yet. Then he perked up. “Actually, that’s a lie, I’ve seen her twice since then, though she was  _ definitely _ younger. Took her to this anti-grav party where all the drinks floated to you in little bubbles. And really, the second time was a complete accident. I was—” 

“Doctor,” Rory sighed, letting his head which was resting limply on the back of the couch roll to face the Doctor. 

“Right, sorry,” he winced, setting his hands decisively in his lap.

“You should spend more time with her,” he told him, tilting his head down. “I mean, she’s your  _ wife _ . You’re supposed to see her every once and awhile. Break her out of prison and get into trouble or whatever your version of wining and dining is,” he waved his hand then paused for a moment, watching the Doctor’s unpinnable expression, the one that made him look so ancient. “River visits all the time, and she always asks about you.” 

The Doctor clenched his jaw, suddenly feeling as though his limbs were made of lead. “The more I see her,” he said slowly, “the faster she ages.” 

“Not sure that’s how it works. She’ll still get older even if you’re not with her,” Rory pointed out, trying to make his voice level despite the frustration rising underneath. Rory took a breath and sat up, turning to face the Doctor straight on. “There’s going to be a day for River when you’ll have no idea who she is,” he said it slow and even, and the Doctor’s stomach dropped. Since the beginning, the future had always lingered over the four of them like an omen, creating something deeply unspoken and taboo. After all, there was a reason the Doctor feared River aging so much. “If you care for her  _ at all _ you will be there with her right up until that moment because it’s going to destroy her. Do you understand?” he asked, eyes filled with a terrible pain that could only come from seeing that same pain in River. She’d told him something. 

“She didn’t say destroy, did she?” he asked, quieter than he intended, searching Rory’s quickly evolving expression. 

“What, you want the exact phrasing?” he protested, leaning away from the Doctor.

“Yes, Rory, I want the  _ exact _ phrasing,” he snapped, sitting stiller than he’d been in a long time. Rory didn’t break eye contact, appalled that the Doctor was pushing this. And when he realized the Doctor wasn’t going to let it go, he scoffed and shook his head. 

“She said she didn’t fear your death or her own. That there was a worse day coming for her,” he told him reluctantly, voice sinking lower the more he spoke. “There, you happy? I feel dirty now. Don’t  _ ever _ tell Amy I told you that.” 

The Doctor swallowed then, blinking as her eyes settled on Yaz. If Rory had never told her that, she wouldn’t have ever let herself believe she was that important to River. Her self-loathing wouldn’t allow it. “Yeah,” the Doctor croaked out. “That’s what happened to River.” 

“Doctor, I’m sorry,” Yaz offered, tentatively reaching out to rest her hand on the Doctor’s arm. She pulled it away and yanked down her sleeves from her elbow, dragging her legs in so she sat cross legged, a pill bug folding in on itself. 

“Don’t do that,” she shook her head, lip curling into a grimace as she met Yaz’s eyes. “I don’t want pity.” 

“It’s not pity. It’s sympathy,” Yaz frowned, genuine confusion dancing across her features. The Doctor’s expression melted, the tightness in her muscles coming undone, and then there  _ was _ pity in Yaz’s eyes, just a little, just enough for the Doctor to swallow and look down, smoothing out her pants with clammy hands. 

“At the restaurant,” the Doctor started, meeting her eyes again, “River  _ got _ to you.” It was almost a question, narrowing her eyes at Yaz for a half second. 

“Got under my  _ skin _ if that’s what you mean,” Yaz laughed. “She’s very...sure of herself.” 

“She’s  _ arrogant _ ,” the Doctor offered, a hint of a smile on her lips. Yaz eyed her, a smirk dancing in her eyes. 

“I’m sure she’s earned the right to be,” Yaz countered. “She’s quick, I’ll give her that. Witty,  _ flirty _ ,” she listed. 

“ _ Not _ flirty.” 

“ _ Unbearably _ flirty!” Yaz protested with a laugh. “Every time she took a jab at one of us, especially you, she was flirting, and frankly, Doctor, you were eating it up.” 

The Doctor scoffed, grabbing her knees and rocking back, nose scrunched, “Was not!” But there was a grin on her cheeks, and Yaz just laughed. 

“Is she like this when she knows who you are?” Yaz asked, a smile stuck on her face. The Doctor’s faltered for a moment, and Yaz’s own flickered in response. 

“Nah, much worse,” she nodded with a grin, but it was less genuine now. The Doctor knew that had sparked questions for Yaz, but thankfully she chose not to ask them. 

“Is it really gonna take weeks to get the TARDIS up and running?” Yaz asked, and the Doctor nodded, grateful for the excuse to let her smile drop. 

“Probably, though that’s on the high end. I still have to make an inventory of things I might need for repairs. At least we’re stranded someplace friendly though, eh?”

“And you’re really not gonna look into that thing with River?”

“River is more than capable of taking care of herself, especially in a tight spot,” the Doctor assured her. 

“Are you saying that because seeing River again makes you nervous or because you actually believe that?” Yaz asked, skeptical. The Doctor pushed herself to her feet, marveling at the fact that sometimes she saw Clara looking out through Yaz’s eyes.

“I’m going to check on Graham.” 

“That’s not an answer, Doctor!” Yaz called playfully as the Doctor bounded up the stairs and into the endless hallways of the TARDIS. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed this one! would love to hear your thoughts in the comments. river's gonna be central to the next chapter so get ready for some answers lol. also come find me on tumblr (missywhomst) if you ever feel like rambling about space wives !


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back at it again. sorry for the wait it's been a rough few weeks. hope you enjoy this one!

As River strode down the bustling hallway toward her office, she spotted Len lingering outside the door and slowed to a halt, students brushing past her. She knew Len had wanted to speak with her when she got back from lunch with Jane, but she didn’t think that meant he’d be loitering outside her office like a nervous first year. He was restless, and for a small moment she considered turning right back around. That particular fantasy was shattered when Len met her eyes. He cocked his head toward her office door, hands deep in his pockets. She pressed her lips together and stepped forward, sliding past students as she went. 

“Surprised the world hasn’t imploded yet,” River muttered as she reached the door and dug the key to her office from her slacks. 

“Very funny,” Len grumbled, glancing around. He looked haggard, like he hadn’t slept the night before. She heard the door click behind him as she walked to her desk, tossing the key onto a stack of students’ essays. 

“How long were you waiting out there for me?” she asked, turning to face him and lowering herself onto the front of her desk, crossing her arms over her middle. Len opened and closed his mouth. 

“Not long,” he dismissed, shaking his head, but River didn’t believe him one bit. “Look, River, this is serious. Our jobs might be on the line.” She refrained from rolling her eyes, but only barely, inhaling deeply through her nose instead. River had been putting her life on the line longer than Len had been alive, and she didn’t think she’d ever quite cared for the idea of job security either. She was more of a reliable business partner in a tight spot kind of girl. Even with tenure, and even in the 52nd century, professors weren’t fountains of wealth. Archeology for hire was just as fun and triple the income.

“I won’t let that happen, Len. We talked about this. Worst case scenario, I’m the only one liable, here,” she said slowly, nodding. 

“Yes, yes, I’ll pretend I didn’t know. We’ve been over all that.”

“Great. So what’s the problem?” River asked, pressing her palms into the desk as she crossed her ankles.

“Two days ago, Luna security detected a spike in artron energy. They’ve notified the Dean, and she’s ordered an investigation. They’re starting in the physics and engineering departments, but you and I both know they’ll move on to archeology next,” he breathed, almost a plea, and River’s face fell. Jane had been right. 

“How did you find this out?” A tinge of fear prickled at River’s spine, just enough for her to take this seriously. She had anticipated being found out, mostly to placate Len, but she hadn’t anticipated being found out because of an artron spike.

“Basil, in engineering, is an old friend of mine. They mentioned that some people from security asked them questions about the department's work in artron energy. They had paperwork from the Dean. Basil put two and two together,” he said, shaking his head, letting his arms fall helplessly to his sides. River did not like that this was all word of mouth, but if Len trusted Basil then it was worth being concerned about. 

“Did they give numbers? An energy readout?” she asked. 

“They never said an exact number, but they did say they were asking about a target range. I think it was seven to ten thousand.” 

“Seven to ten—” River burst, a chill running down her spine as she stood up. She ghosted her hand over her mouth, rounding her desk as Len walked closer. 

“Is that a lot?” he asked desperately, pressing his hands into River’s desk as she sat down in her chair. 

“It’s... _ astronomical _ for an artifact I dug up from the bloody  _ ground _ ,” she protested. Len sunk into the chair across from her, looking like he was about to leave his body, his face draining of color. 

“And it’s definitely not from your…” 

“On a bad day, a vortex manipulator won’t register above two hundred Atto-Omegas. It’s why I can slip in and out of Luna without detection. Even the smallest ships capable of time travel won’t register below five hundred. No one bothers monitoring for readings that low,” River scoffed and then leaned forward in her chair. “Len, I think we have a bigger problem than security on our tail. What the  _ hell _ did we dig up?” 

“I don’t know, but shouldn’t we tell them? If this is a problem, we should let Luna handle it,” he nearly whispered as if he was being watched. River grit her teeth, a pit settling in her stomach. Len was getting cagey, and if she wasn’t careful he was going to break. For once, Len’s paranoia might have paid off. He was right.  _ Both _ their jobs were on the line. She would make sure of it. 

“How are you going to explain to security that you knew  _ exactly _ what caused that spike? You can’t blame me without implicating yourself. And you really think they’re just going to let it go if you confess before they catch you? There’s a reason the archeology department is second on their list to investigate. You remember what happened to Wesley when they found her out,” River reminded Len whose face fell very quickly. Wesley was currently serving time in an adjacent galaxy per the Shadow Proclamation’s declarations on time travel. It was a rather moderate prison sentence in River’s opinion but lengthy to Len who’d never actually been to prison. She was fairly certain he’d like to keep it that way. 

“So what do we do?” he croaked, and River sighed, drumming her fingers along her knuckles. She knew it was only a matter of time until the investigation transitioned to the archeology department.

“We do what we brought it here to do. An analysis,” she told him pointedly. 

“But security…”

“Our window of opportunity is closing then,” she countered. “Oh come on, Len, I know you’re just as curious as I am. You’re the one who agreed to let me smuggle it into Luna in the first place!” 

“You said we wouldn’t get caught!” 

“And we won’t! I promise you it’ll be off Luna before they even shift the investigation to our department.”

“You’re going to put it back?” Len asked, outraged, and River leaned back in her chair. 

“If your intent is not to get caught, I’m confused as to what else you’d want me to do with it,” she countered, and he sighed, sinking down into his chair. He scrubbed his palms down his face and let them fall into his lap. 

“I’ll keep in touch with Basil. Get us a better timeline,” Len sighed deeply, shaking his head as his eyes met River’s again. 

“We’re in this together, Len. You and me,” she told him, tilting her chin down. She watched as he nodded tiredly. 

“Just...let me know what you find, okay?” he asked, standing up. 

“That’s the spirit,” she called as he walked to her door and closed it wordlessly behind him. 

When he was gone, the smile faded from River’s face, and she bit down into her lip. She knew she’d put herself in a terrible position, but in all fairness she didn’t think things would go so badly so quickly. Smuggling a stolen artifact in and out of Luna was no problem. She’d done it dozens of times before. Smuggling out a stolen artifact that was radiating enormous amounts of artron energy while the university was practically on lockdown was another thing altogether. 

And then there was the artifact itself. River had been around for a long time. She was a regular manipulator of the linear flow of time. She’d perfected the art of existing in two places at once, had participated in several paradoxes, and had practically invented  _ spoilers _ . From the outside, her life made little linear sense. She was the child of a complex space-time event, a genetic anomaly. The fabric of the time vortex was written into her bones in a way that had never been done before and will never be done again. But there was nothing in the universe she could think of that would account for such a ridiculously high artron reading from an artifact that had been encased in dirt for hundreds of years. 

At least the one thing she didn’t have to worry about was Len. Though it was touch and go there for a minute, she figured that for now he’d have the good sense to keep his mouth shut.

She spent the next few hours grading papers, trying to take her mind off the artifact sitting in her safe at home. She would certainly go to jail if she came forward with it now. Len would deny involvement, and she’d have to explain how she’d gotten it into Luna if not on the transport ship back from the expedition. Not only would they get her for removing an artifact from a host planet without the local government’s permission, they’d get her for possession of illegal time travel equipment as well. And she wasn’t about to go back to prison. 

At that thought, she dropped her pen and leaned back in her chair, taking a deep breath. She glanced out the window. It was dusk already, well, artificially anyway. She turned back to the clock on her desk and saw that it was already later than when she usually left her office. So she pushed back her chair, gathered her things, and locked up the office. She strode down the stairs and out the front of the building, pondering what to make for dinner. Her house was well within walking distance and the weather was eternally pleasant, so she’d never bothered to purchase any kind of transportation. Well, besides her vortex manipulator. She wet her lips, thinking about how much she’d been craving pasta that week. 

And then River found the wind being knocked out of her as she stumbled back from the corner of the archeology building, a solid body tumbling with her until they both barely caught their footing. “Oh my god,” the voice gasped, hands reaching out to steady River who stepped away. “I am so sorry.” River recognized the voice in the dim street lights. She squinted, noting two tense looking figures in front of her. 

“Wait a minute,” a lower voice said, stepping closer to the woman who ran into her. “Professor Song? It’s Ryan. Ryan Sinclair. And Yaz.” He motioned to the two of them, and the crease in River’s brow loosened. 

“From the restaurant. You’re Jane’s friends,” she clarified, and they nodded eagerly. “What are you two doing here?” They hesitated, sharing a look, and River immediately grew suspicious. 

“Just...sightseeing, you know. Jane’s busy repairing our ship so we thought we’d take a look around,” Yaz offered with a half shrug. 

“By loitering around an academic building after dark?” she asked, noting how young they were, university age. Ryan opened and closed his mouth. 

“Just needed some fresh air, yeah?” he shrugged, and a slow smile tugged at River’s lips. She chuckled, low and amused. 

“For supposed fugitives, you two are terrible at lying,” she said, and if the light was better she was sure she would have seen Yaz blush. The two of them were much more naive than they thought they were, and River figured this was a good enough opportunity as any to get information out of them that Jane would be less willing to share. “While I have you here, I’ve been meaning to ask. How did Jane know about security?” Ryan faltered, but Yaz held firm. 

“We’ll tell you if you tell us what happened with Len on your last expedition,” she challenged, and River couldn’t help but laugh. She was good at convincing herself she was tough, River would give her that. 

“Awfully curious.”

“So are you.” Yaz held firm, and River eyed the two of them. Ryan just raised his brow expectantly. 

“Fine,” River breathed. “Join me for dinner then, won’t you?” She had to admit this wasn’t just a professional curiosity. It wasn’t often people dropped out of the sky at Luna. It was a historically uneventful place to be when she wasn’t swashbuckling her way across time and space. Though as she’d gotten older, the domesticity of it had begun to grow on her. The two of them looked hesitant, almost wary of her. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” she mused, a smile slinking across her face. They squirmed, glancing at each other then nodding awkwardly. 

River led the way. It wasn’t more than a fifteen minute walk, and none of them said much to each other. Which was fine. River was still preoccupied with the artifact. Something was wrong in a way she couldn’t pinpoint, a feeling flickering at the back of her subconscious. But before River knew it, they were walking up to her front door. It was a modest place, just outside the busier suburbs, with an herb garden in the back and wildflowers along the sides. It was cozy and familiar, and it was the one thing she really truly missed while she was at Stormcage, what she ached for at night when the thunder kept her awake. She unlocked the door and walked in, closing it behind her guests as they looked around. River hung up her coat and then the two of theirs, partly to be polite and partly to make sure they didn’t have any weapons on them. 

Her heeled boots clicked on the hardwood as she led them to the kitchen. She flicked on the lights and noticed their curiosity, peering at her things and the vase of flowers on her kitchen table. “Wine?” she asked, “or there’s beer in the fridge,” she added, glancing at Ryan who nodded, wandering in that direction. 

“I’ll take a glass,” Yaz said, and River nodded, plucking a bottle from a wine rack. 

“I have a bolognese, so I hope pinot’s okay,” she muttered, digging a corkscrew from her silverware drawer and a bottle opener for Ryan. She tossed it to him across the island. 

“Cheers,” he nodded, and she heard the cap pop and the faint hiss of carbonation escaping. She dug the corkscrew in, lips pressed together as she twisted. 

“At the restaurant,” Yaz started, and River glanced at her, “you got on Graham for thinking you were doing us any favors, but this is... _ hospitality _ . What made you change your mind?” 

“Well,” River sighed, “once I realized you were at the archeology building to break into my office, I figured, keep your friends close…” she trailed off, pulling the corkscrew from the bottle with a satisfying pop. And from Ryan and Yaz’s panicked expressions, it was clear there was no need for her to finish the saying. 

“We weren’t—” 

“Don’t,” River cut Yaz off with a firm shake of her head, pouring her a glass. “We both have something on each other. I should have expected you to try and get the upper hand.” 

“Jane and Graham don’t know we went. They’re not a part of this,” Ryan admitted, holding his bottle by the neck as River slid a glass to Yaz who stood next to him across the island. River chuckled, pouring herself a glass. 

“Sneaking behind the boss’s back.” 

“She’s not our boss,” Yaz countered. 

“More of a flat team structure,” Ryan confirmed. 

“Then why’d you hide it from her?” River asked, taking a sip. Yaz and Ryan glanced at each other. 

“She trusts you,” he shrugged, and River frowned. What an odd thing to say about someone you’d met two days before. 

“And you don’t,” River clarified. It wasn’t a question. River set down her glass and began digging around her cabinets for pots and pans. “Don’t feel bad. I don’t trust you either,” she added, filling a pot with water. “Speaking of Jane,” she breathed, setting the pot on the stove and turning on the burner. She poured a helping of salt in the water and walked to the fridge, Yaz and Ryan parting like the Red Sea. “How’d she know?” 

“The doctor,” Yaz sighed, almost unwilling to part with the information, and River’s chest tightened. “The one at the hospital after we crashed. She mentioned it to Jane.” Her heart restarted with a lurch, and River sighed, setting a premade marinara sauce on the counter along with a package of mushrooms and ground beef. It was a shame the Doctor wasn’t around. She wouldn’t have minded a visit. 

“In what context?” River asked, plucking an onion from the counter. 

“She said the staff at Luna have secrets,” Yaz shrugged as River grabbed a knife from the block, sharp and glinting in the lights. 

“That’s it?” she asked, frowning as she chopped the top off the onion. 

She remembered what Jane had said to her in the café.  _ I did hear that the security on Luna’s being tightened. _ And  _ archeology’s a tricky subject in the age of time travel.  You could be stealing. _ She’d been trying to be nonchalant, but River knew she’d been fishing for something, or had been trying to tell her she knew something. She couldn’t help but wonder why Jane would specifically suspect River of any involvement from nothing but a cryptic sentence by a doctor she didn’t know? In order for Jane to link River to a security lockdown via the incredibly bold assumption that she was using time travel to supplement her archeology career, Jane must have known the lockdown was linked to artron energy. And, almost worse, she must have known something about River’s history with vortex manipulators. The knife came down harder than she intended on her cutting board, and the two of them eyed her. 

“She didn’t say anything else,” Ryan offered, and she looked at them, wondering if they knew anything more. They were wide eyed children to River, following the orders of a woman River wasn’t convinced they really knew. 

“What happened with Len?” Yaz broke the silence as River opened a box of spaghetti and dumped it in the boiling water. River didn’t answer right away, breaking apart the ground beef with a spatula.

“The archeology department at Luna doesn’t always pick and choose where we feel like digging,” River sighed, shaking her head as she turned around to face them, leaning against the counter. “Sometimes we’re contracted out by planets that might not have the resources of a full archeological team,” she explained, making sure the meat didn’t burn in the pan. “The planet we were on, Ptolem, is a small farming world on the other side of the galaxy. They’d torn down a forest, and someone found remains while tilling the soil. The initial police investigation ruled out foul play, but they also turned up a settlement, ancient. So they called us. But it turns out the site was...contaminated.” 

“In what way? It was buried under a forest,” Yaz countered, confused. 

“For hundreds of years, yes,” River confirmed, dumping the mushrooms and onions in with the cooked ground beef to let them brown. 

“You don’t know,” Ryan said, almost a question, and River took a deep breath, checking the pasta. 

“I don’t know how, no,” she confirmed reluctantly. “The doctor, how did she know?” River asked then, and she watched them tense, almost confused for a moment. 

“No idea,” Yaz said then, never breaking eye contact. 

“Jane didn’t ask?” They shook their heads. “What was her name?” They glanced at each other. 

“I don’t think Jane ever said,” Yaz hesitated, shaking her head when Ryan confirmed. River sighed, another lead dying for now. She didn’t have much time before security turned to the archeology department. And that was if they didn’t trace the artron energy to her house before that. 

“Would you mind setting the table, Yaz, the dishes are in the cabinet next to the sink,” River said, and Yaz did as she was told. Ryan drained the pasta, and River brought it all to the table, serving each one of them in turn. Finally, she poured her and Yaz another glass of wine and sat down herself. 

“This is amazing,” Ryan said, barely swallowing his food before he spoke, motioning with his fork. Yaz seconded it, and River smiled. She’d told them the most rudimentary aspects of the expedition, but she’d kept the details from them, the ones that would get River sent to prison. And she still didn’t have a single thing on them except the suspicion that they were fugitives. 

“Family?” Yaz asked, pointing to something on the wall, and River snapped out of her daze to look. It was a framed photograph surrounded by art she’d bought at the farmer’s market. 

“My parents. Before I was born,” River said, smiling fondly at the picture. They’d been so young, before the Doctor fell from the sky and became real. Barely dating, they sat on a picnic blanket in Leadworth. Amy was laughing, holding her hand out to block Mels from taking the photo, and Rory was staring at Amy like she’d hung the stars for him. When she looked back, Yaz was watching her. And she must have seen the tenderness in River’s eyes because she certainly capitalized on it when she spoke next. 

“Look, Professor Song, we don’t have to be on different teams here,” Yaz said as Ryan set down his beer. 

“She’s right. You can trust us. If you’re in trouble, we can help.” 

“Surprisingly enough, when you intend to break into my office, my trust in you decreases. Mutually assured destruction doesn’t work when one party has more leverage than the other,” River said, and Yaz took a deep breath. 

“And we’re...sorry about that. It was a stupid mistake. But Jane was telling the truth. She wasn’t asking about time travel to threaten you. She just wants to understand the situation better so she can help. We all do,” Yaz pleaded, looking to Ryan who nodded. 

“Help what, exactly? You don’t have any idea what’s going on. Now me, I’m all for adrenaline seeking, but not when it  _ recklessly _ interferes with my work,” River warned, her voice low. “I gave you information in exchange for information, and that’s where your involvement ends.” 

“Right, we don’t give a crap if you’re a time traveler,” Ryan burst. “ _ We’re _ time travelers. We’re not going to turn you in. You’re interested in that doctor, wanna know if she’s involved. Us and Graham can find out tomorrow, and you and Jane can figure out how to get security off your tail. She’s good at stuff like that,” he offered. 

River swallowed her wine and set down her glass. She had to admit the confession had surprised her. She’d suspected something similar, but she didn’t think they’d admit to it. And though it was clear they were hiding just as much as she was, they seemed genuine enough in their enthusiasm. 

“If the security lockdown has  _ anything _ to do with the expedition you told us about, this is bigger than you’re letting on, and you’re going to need help,” Yaz told her. They didn’t waver, and they didn’t back down, and River almost admired their courage, no matter how reckless it was. 

“You’re almost starting to convince me about that flat team structure.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not creative enough to make up atto-omegas. got that one from a classic who wiki page lol. so...yaz and ryan are rebels and river's in Trouble(tm). this chapter was mostly a set up for future stuff which is why it took so long to make work, but i promise that good river/13 content is coming. would love to hear your theories/comments!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! thanks for your support in the comments last chapter. i really appreciated it. as with everyone else, this lockdown has been a strain on my mental health. that's part of the reason it's taken me so long to write this chapter. the other is that i was having a really difficult time making sure a specific conversation in this one went how i wanted it to. no content warnings necessary, just one that i know you've all been looking forward to. hope you enjoy!

It got cold in the TARDIS hallways, those strange corridors between endless matrix generated space. The Doctor would have thought that, being infinite and all, the old gal could have installed a temperature regulator or maybe stuck some space heaters in the corners. The TARDIS whirred in her ear, a soft chastising tone that had the Doctor scuffing the floor with her boot and shoving her hands deep in her pockets. “Left my coat in the console room. Least you could do is turn up the heat,” she muttered, goosebumps puckering the exposed skin on her forearms and collar bones. Another noise, a playful ping and clanking of machinery. “I’m sorry! Yaz, she’s got this laser eye! Not a real one, mind you, but she’s excellent at sorting out when you’re not telling the whole truth, and she’s got this terrible habit of worming it out of you. I mean it’s brilliant,  _ she’s _ brilliant, that’s why I chose her, but I never meant for it to be turned on me.” She lost steam at the end, chewing on her bottom lip as she sauntered down the winding hallway. 

Her boots echoed against the cool metal, coming back to her ears from behind and ahead. She hated being stuck by herself. The terrible cycling of her own unchecked thoughts was as tortuous as it was annoying. Absently, the Doctor wondered if it was possible to haunt herself. To get under her own skin. Even she got sick of herself sometimes. The TARDIS pricked at her mind, and she clicked her tongue, shooing away the psychic link like she would a fly. “I don’t need the both you going at me now,” the Doctor warned the walls which just hummed back at her. “Yaz never used to do that. Ask personal questions. And that was fine. It was good. But now they care about me, and humans, you give in  _ one _ time and it sets a precedent,” she rambled, pulling her hands from her pockets and throwing them around. “I mean, why would she even care when she could be playing mini golf with Cleopatra or visiting the largest arcade in the universe?” Her footsteps grew more forceful, her breathing erratic, and the TARDIS dimmed the lights. She slowed to a halt, confused and a bit concerned as she looked around. It wasn’t until she’d taken a deep breath that the lights slowly came back on, the buzzing in her head subsiding. Her cheeks flushed. “Thanks,” she muttered as her steps continued on, slower this time. 

A few corners later she found herself at the library, and the TARDIS hummed gently in her head. That was the thing about being infinite and sentient and endlessly reconstructable. The TARDIS could have led her to the library, to Graham, right away. Instead, she let her walk off whatever self pity was beginning to fester under her skin before she was faced with another person. It was a courtesy, really. Graham didn’t deserve her sour mood. And really, truly, neither did Yaz. 

This library was different from her previous face’s. It was wide open with vaulted ceilings and a burgundy carpet that felt nice under the Doctor’s feet after long days of running. There were twenty foot stacks of books that seemed to go on forever and plush couches to settle into and read on. When they were in space, there were windows as big as the stacks that looked out onto the stars. The Doctor would sit there some nights instead of sleep, watching as nebulas floated by, that endless cosmic dance. 

Graham was on a tan couch next to an end table and a floor lamp, warm light spilling over him. The lights further down were dim and soft, a kind of power saving mode. There was a book propped on his lap, his legs resting on an ottoman, shoes kicked to the side. He looked right at home, and a smile pulled at her lips as she shoved her hands back into her pockets. The dull thump of her footsteps gave her away as she approached, and Graham turned, brow raised. There were glasses perched on his nose that she didn’t think she’d seen on him before, little things that caught the light. 

“Hey, Doc,” he smiled, dog earring his book and setting it down in his lap. He pulled off the glasses and placed them down delicately on the end table. “Have a seat.” And she did, a cushion away, pressing her palms together between her knees. “How’re the repairs going?” 

“Dampers and perception filter are looking good as new. I’ll clean up the console room later, start doing the bigger repairs,” she nodded, already knowing she’d be forgoing sleep that night. Her eyes caught the leather bound book. “A good one?” A grin quickly spread across his face as he shook his head. 

“Yeah, it’s the craziest thing. I had no idea where to start with this maze, so I figured, hey, I’ll surprise myself. Walked right up to the first shelf I saw, picked a book at random, and what do you know, it’s been on my list for months. We’re always running around, so I never get a chance to go to the shop and pick it up,” he grinned, slapping the cover with the back of his hand. 

“That’s the TARDIS. With enough exposure, you can establish a psychic link,” she explained, straightening her back, chin tilted up. 

“Is that why all those aliens always speak English?” Graham asked. 

“TARDIS translation matrix,” she nodded, and Graham tutted, turning and grabbing the glasses from the end table, bringing his legs down from the ottoman. 

“It must have given me these too. I was feeling a bit like a trombone player, so I dug around the drawers here. These showed up. Perfect prescription too,” he said, weighing them in his hand. They were gold wire rimmed glasses, the frames shaped into half moons. And the Doctor’s hearts lurched. She recognized them, her shoulders sinking, the breath knocked straight from her lungs. “Doc?” Graham asked hesitantly. He was frowning, searching out her eyes which were miles away. 

“And they—” her voice faltered, and she swallowed. “They were just in the drawer?” She motioned to them helplessly, her voice lilting up at the end, finally meeting his eyes. 

“Right, yeah, just sitting there. Doc, are you okay?” Graham asked, leaning closer, ghosting a hand over her arm.

“Um.” She was stiff as a board, and the TARDIS pressed into her mind. It was supposed to be coaxing, but it came across more commanding, and the Doctor took a breath. “I didn’t know those glasses were still...here,” she offered, her throat tightening, eyebrows knit together. She swallowed, watching Graham’s eyes swell with recognition. 

“I take it you haven’t seen these in a while,” he said, extending the glasses toward her. She reached for them before she realized what she was doing, scooping them from Graham’s hand like they would break at the slightest touch. They were the same delicate frames she remembered from Darillium, the edges of the glass smudged under her fingertips. “Whose are they, Doctor?” Graham asked, but she kept her eyes down. 

The gentle mournfulness in his tone embarrassed her, and she curled her fingers around the glasses, trying to shield them from reality. She liked them much better when she could hide them away in her imagination. There were reasons she kept River buried in her head. It was easier that way. There were few people in the Doctor’s life that could make her lose her grip on herself so easily. And even fewer she’d admit that to. But the TARDIS pushed into her head again, and she frowned, squeezing the tip of her thumb. 

“They were River’s,” she said, looking up at Graham. He raised his brow, leaning back as he appraised her and took a deep breath. He knew he had to be careful now, to only ask the right kinds of questions. The last thing he wanted was her shutting him down. Not this time. 

“She must have spent an awful lot of time on the TARDIS to leave these behind. It’s not like we get much down time,” he joked, and a smile tugged at the Doctor’s lips with him. 

“She’d do stints with me here and there,” she offered with a shrug as she continued to hold the glasses. “But she always made herself at home when she did.” A hazy smile spread across her face as she met Graham’s eyes. 

“You said you always see River...out of order. Are those glasses from her past or her future?” 

“Future,” she said, “though it’s not that far away now I expect.” Graham frowned at that and, seeing his confusion, she licked her lips. “She was having a hard time reading the menu at the Travista. I was wondering why she wasn’t wearing them, but I suppose it’s a bit too early yet. Though it took her far too long to admit she needed them in the first place. She’d refuse to wear them for the longest time,” the Doctor chuckled, her eyes sparkling, and Graham smiled with her. 

“No one likes to admit they’re getting old, eh?” he smiled, nudging her. 

“No, she didn’t want  _ me _ to know she was getting older,” the Doctor corrected, oblivious, as the smile slowly fell from Graham’s face. She didn’t realize what she’d admitted to until she recognized his heartbroken expression. And then her blood ran cold. 

“River’s not a Time Lord is she,” Graham said, and it wasn’t a question. “She doesn’t age like you do.” The Doctor squeezed her fingers tight enough to turn them red and shook her head just slightly, dreading his inevitable conclusion.

“No. She doesn’t.” 

“If I was River, the only reason I’d bother worrying about that sort of thing is if we were together,” he said, each word delicately pointed. The Doctor didn’t reply, her jaw set tight but her hands still cradling those half moon glasses. “Doc…” he hesitated, unsure if he was about to push her too far away. “Are you and River—”

“Were,” she interjected. “She’s dead now.” Her eyes were quickly steeled away, and Graham sighed. 

“But she’s right here at Luna,” he protested. The Doctor’s nostrils flared, and she ran her thumb along the length of the frames. 

“When I was younger, I used to be so excited to see River,” she admitted, looking up at Graham. She almost laughed, a smile tugging at her lips as she shook her head. “She’d pop in and out of my life, always trouble at her heels, and dangle spoilers in front of my face like candy. She was infuriating, and she broke every single one of my rules, and she was wonderful,” the Doctor smiled, shrugging, and Graham couldn’t help but stare at the stars in her eyes. He was no stranger to seeing that giddy wonder she carried around spill over, but he’d never seen her like this about one person. It was a bit jarring to know she was capable of something as ordinary as love. 

“So what changed?” he asked gently. The Doctor licked her lips, brow furrowed. 

“Remember how I said she and I always meet in the wrong order?” He nodded. “When I first met River, the way she talked to me, it was like we’d known each other for ages. She was attentive and affectionate— _ playful _ —like we’d done this a thousand times before. And for River, we had. She was so...terrifyingly familiar. And at first it was fun because I knew she was going to be a part of my future. You know me, I like a good mystery. But she knew things about me that  _ no one _ should know. She knew my name, Graham. Not the Doctor, the one I chose. She knew my given name,” she told him, and there was such gravity to her words that Graham felt a shiver run down his own spine, like he was being sworn into some terrible secret. 

“I don’t understand,” he frowned, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“We were in a bad situation, and she needed me to trust her very quickly. Telling me my name was her way of showing me how important she would be to me one day. To  _ me _ , someone notoriously terrified of intimacy,” she nearly burst, as if the very idea that that had happened still baffled the Doctor. Graham wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear the second part. “And  _ then , _ ” she pointed, “she sacrificed herself to save me. She gave her life for 4022 people she didn’t know so that our timeline would be preserved, so that she’d still meet me one day in her past. My future.”

“So you’ve always known how River’s going to die,” Graham ventured, the very idea making his head hurt, the words curdling on his tongue. The Doctor swallowed, and he noticed her eyes shining. Graham had never seen the Doctor cry, had never even seen her get close to it.

“When I saw her again after that she was a little bit younger. And younger after that. Then one day she started getting older again. But by that time I cared for her so...and I tried so hard not to…” her voice broke and she sighed, frustrated with herself as she curled her fingers over the glasses. “I got scared,” she admitted, her eyes welling as she swallowed. “And I was angry. What if you met Grace, she died, and  _ then _ you fell in love with her?” 

The thought made his chest tighten so much he could barely breathe. He opened and closed his mouth, shaking his head. “Oh Doc,” he sighed, and tears pooled in the corners of the Doctor’s eyes. “I can’t even imagine.” She sniffed and turned her head down when he reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. 

“The last time I saw her was supposed to be the last time,” she said firmly, quickly wiping her eye with the back of her finger, embarrassed. “Our timelines had synced up. There were no more spoilers. And then  _ this _ .” She sounded bitter almost, her lip curling, like the universe was playing a cruel trick on her. Graham wasn’t sure he understood that. 

“Now you’ve lost me. Isn’t this a good thing? Another chance to see her?” he protested, keeping his hand wrapped gently around her shoulder. She didn’t move away.

“It’s complicated.”

“Hey, I’ve got all the time in the world,” he offered, squeezing her shoulder. She reached up to brush her hair behind her ear, the chain on her piercing swaying. He moved his hand back to his lap, watching her gather her thoughts. 

“Time Lords only have a limited number of regenerations, and River knew all my faces. But I had been given another regeneration cycle, so when I saw her last, she didn’t have any idea who I was.” 

“Like now,” he clarified, choosing to leave his other questions about regeneration cycles for later, and she nodded. 

“I told her eventually, but what happened in between…” she inhaled deeply, shaking her head. Graham could see that those moments had been precious to her. “When River died, she made me promise not to rewrite a single line of our history. She can’t know I have more faces yet. It’ll change my past. It could create a paradox.” 

Graham sighed and leaned back, appraising her hunched shoulders and drying eyes. “I’m no expert in paradoxes, but I’m pretty sure you’re just making up excuses now. Any extra time with a loved one is good time, Doc. Tell me River wouldn’t risk a paradox to see you again,” he pushed. A faint smile ghosted her lips. 

“She already has, and I’m sure she’d do it again. River Song literally stopped time so that she could marry me,” the Doctor laughed the weight off her shoulders, and a grin spread across Graham’s face, laughing along with her. 

“River’s your  _ wife _ ? Doc, for god’s sake,” he sighed, the smile slowly fading from both their cheeks, watching as the Doctor bit her lip. 

“I can’t put other people in danger just to say  _ hey honey, I’m home _ ,” she offered weakly, meeting his eyes. 

Now, Graham was no more knowledgeable than the next guy on the intricacies of time travel or what rules one absolutely couldn’t break, but what he was certain of was that the Doctor was scared. She’d been grieving for a long time. Graham could imagine how she would fear the pain of having to do it all over again. 

“Tell me about you and her. Those adventures you’d have,” Graham encouraged, and something sparked in the Doctor’s eyes. She fiddled with the glasses, taking a breath. 

“Have I ever told you about Jim the Fish?” And as she launched into a story that Graham could barely follow it was moving so quickly, he smiled. The Doctor wasn’t an easy person to get to know. There was always an inordinate amount of running, and the three of them had been blinded by the novelty of new planets and time travel for a long time. Graham hadn’t realized just how little they knew about her until recently, how reluctant she was to tell them even basic facts about herself and her past. 

“Doc,” he interrupted then, and she paused, brow raised. “I know you don’t like talking about yourself, and I think I’m starting to see why. Listen, I’m sorry if we’ve ever pushed you too hard, but I appreciate you telling me all that. It’s important to talk about, even if it hurts.  _ Especially _ if it hurts. And especially with family.” He tilted his chin down, a gentle smile deepening the crows feet around his eyes. The Doctor paused, her features melting into something soft and tender and perhaps surprised. 

“It was...nice, Graham, thank you,” she said finally. He reached over and squeezed her free hand in his. And, after a moment, she squeezed back. 

“Graham, have you seen—oh, hey, Doctor, we were just looking for you,” a voice called from the other side of the room, and Graham broke their hands to turn and see who it was. Both Ryan and Yaz were walking toward them, looking oddly guilty. 

“Hey, fam, what’s up?” the Doctor asked, quickly setting River’s glasses down on the cushion next to her. They stopped in front of her and glanced at each other, engaged in a wordless dialogue. Ryan finally pointed his chin in Yaz’s direction, eyes widening, and she sighed, rolling her eyes and facing the Doctor. 

“So, after our conversation earlier, I ran into Ryan and we got to talking,” Yaz said, leaning back on her heels. The Doctor watched them expectantly. “I know you trust River, but she hasn’t been telling us the whole truth about her expedition or the security here. And I know you didn’t want to intervene, but we were worried that this could be something serious, so we decided to look into it on our own.” 

“What do you mean look into it on your own?” the Doctor asked, her voice getting low and serious as she leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees. 

“We were just gonna take a peek in her office, you know, after hours,” Ryan offered, trying to sound nonchalant as he shrugged and opened his palms. 

“Right, you mean break into her office and look through her things,” Graham corrected, his voice just as stern as the Doctor’s. 

“When you put it that way…” Ryan trailed off as the Doctor picked back up, pointing between them. 

“You said  _ were _ . I take it it didn’t go according to plan. What happened?” 

“Professor Song was leaving the archeology building right as we were...going in,” Yaz admitted, wincing. “But it’s fine!” she added before the Doctor could say anything. “She actually invited us over for dinner.” 

“Dinner?” the Doctor asked, raising her brow. 

“Great bolognese,” Ryan nodded as he shifted his weight to his other foot.

“She wanted to know how you knew about the security lockdown, and in return she told us about the expedition with Len,” Yaz told her, and the Doctor leaned back against the couch. 

“What’d she say?” 

“Just that her and a team had been contracted out to some planet. But the dig site was contaminated somehow. She wouldn’t say.”

“But I definitely got the feeling that whatever happened on the expedition is connected to this security thing,” Ryan added, and Yaz nodded. “She was pretty set on cutting us loose, so I told her we’re time travelers too, and now  _ you’ve _ got a job tomorrow,” he said, pointing with both hands to the Doctor who furrowed her brow. 

“Think you’re missing a step or two there, Ryan,” she offered. 

“I told her we could help! You know splitting the workload. What we do all the time anyway. Me, Yaz, and Graham are gonna go talk to that doctor tomorrow to see what she knows. And you’re gonna help River get security off her back,” he explained, opening his arms. “Win-win.” 

Graham turned to her, and the Doctor felt her cheeks burn in light of their recent conversation. She swallowed. “Right,” she said, clapping her hands together. “This is good. Good job. Team TARDIS back at it! But just for future reference, never do that again.” 

“What, do something without your permission?” Yaz asked, more than a bit offended. The Doctor cocked her head, genuinely confused and very much not liking that implication. 

“ _ No _ , I’m not your dad.  _ Mum _ ? Whatever. The point is, River is on our side. Even if she’s not telling us the whole truth. And if you keep acting like she’s the enemy, she’s going to treat us like one. That is not somewhere you want to be,” the Doctor shook her head gravely, and a somber but curious silence settled between them before Ryan broke it with half a laugh. 

“She’s an archeologist. What’s she gonna do, wave a trowel at us disapprovingly?” 

“More like a gun. I’ve no idea where, but she is  _ always _ carrying one. And I’m not...trying to put you off from her. River’s  _ brilliant _ ,” the Doctor smiled, encouraging. “She’s also had to be incredibly tough,” she added, holding her fist in her hand. 

“You’ve seen her pull a gun out of thin air?” Yaz asked, her police training prickling at the back of her mind and not for the first time when River was involved. 

“007 archeologist, sweet,” Ryan nodded at the same time. 

“Why does she carry around a gun  _ and _ a vortex manipulator?” Graham asked over Ryan and Yaz. 

“Actually, yeah,” Ryan chimed in, “Krasko did the same thing. In Alabama, right?” That caught Yaz’s attention, and they simultaneously turned to the Doctor who didn’t quite know how to answer that. The question of Stormcage was looming, and she wasn’t sure she wanted them knowing about that while they barely knew River and certainly didn’t trust her. 

“Is River dangerous?” Yaz asked. 

“Very,” the Doctor replied honestly. 

“Should we be worried?” 

She frowned as if the question itself was absurd. “No, ‘course not. I trust River with my life.” 

“Even though she has no idea who you are?” Ryan asked. She saw Graham look to her. 

“ _ Especially _ then.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact, in my google drive this story is called half moon glasses. do with that information what you will. would love to hear your comments/theories! i cannot tell you how much i love reading them lol. we're getting very close to a major plot breakthrough!
> 
> also as a side note, i'm endlessly frustrated with how italics show up on this website. is there any way to fix those weird spacing issues??


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again! Thanks to @FlowersAndNoseScrunches for letting me know how to fix the formatting issues. I feel like...ao3 shouldn't even have a rich text option if the edits are only gonna show up when they're formatted via HTML. Flashback to my coding seminar where the only thing I learned was how to make clip art float across a block colored webpage lol. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter!

After the others had gone to bed, Graham leaving her with a tight squeeze to the shoulder, the Doctor reached for the glasses from between the couch cushions. One of the wires had bent when she hastily shoved it out of sight, and she gently moved it back into place, her fingers trailing along the frame. The first time she’d really _seen_ River in those glasses, had taken notice of them anyway, was on a late morning early into their twenty four years together.

When the sun was still setting on Darillium and the world was cast into a perpetual golden hour, River enjoyed sitting in their backyard on a creaking wicker chair to read. She didn’t take well to fiction, often lamenting that it was unrealistically sentimental and dreadfully boring. She knew that her own life and the lives of others contained more thrilling adventures than those writers could dream up anyway, so she stuck to archeology or history or more frequently memoirs. They captivated her as wholly as any other reckless misadventure. Though she didn’t show it in the same way the Doctor did. Her focus was languid, less manic. With one leg folded over the other, she held the book down on her thigh. Her other elbow dug into the arm of the chair, palm supporting her cheek as it rested there. The Doctor watched her through the kitchen window, marveling at her unwavering stillness, like gravity was holding her captive. His legs twitched just thinking about it. It was only the quick, flapping of a page being turned that broke the spell. She rolled the ankle dangling in midair, her hand settling back down to hold the book steady.

He took a breath and broke his gaze from the back of her chair to the eggs that were starting to brown in the frying pan. He quickly flipped them, bacon grease popping on his forearm. It was still early into their time on Darillium, and the Doctor hadn’t quite figured out how to settle yet. They’d bought a little house outside the bustle of the city surrounding the singing towers, and in his frantic and awkward effort to be romantic, he treated it like a grand project, a backyard he could make into a magnificent garden, a shower he could rebuild to wash clothes at the same time. His enthusiasm was overwhelming, and while River was kind albeit a bit frazzled at the prospect, she eventually had to tell him no.

So he stopped. And he tossed and turned in sheets that were too warm, thinking out loud at three in the morning until River finally booted him out of bed. He spent a lot of time wandering and tinkering, repairing the leaky faucet and inventing new ways to toast bread for River’s breakfast. Sometimes he made the faucet leak again just so he could fix it for a second or third or fifty fourth time. Though River certainly noticed—she noticed everything—she didn’t mention it. She’d never been bothered by his antics, not in any way that mattered outside of a mock teasing or withering look, but this was different. It was slow and soft and unbothered in a way that the Doctor had never seen. And it was lovely.

He’d watched her stumble to the kitchen that morning, rubbing her eyes and yawning, and promptly swatted her away from the coffee maker. The sleep swiftly gone from her eyes, she glared at him. “Get out of my way, old man,” she warned, eyes set in stone as he blocked her from the counter, arms spread wide as if protecting it from River’s wrath.

“Step away from the kitchen, River,” he countered, looking down at her, his lips pressed together. “I’m making you breakfast.” She scoffed.

“I thought I banned you after you set the countertop on fire.”

“That was an unfortunate accident. But I distinctly remember your toast still being edible,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and gently pushing her back into the living room.

“I distinctly remember picking up a blackened square from my plate and having it disintegrate in my hands,” she countered as he guided her backwards without resistance. Either she trusted him implicitly or she’d already memorized each corner in this house. He wouldn’t doubt either possibility.

“I’ve been practicing,” he assured, sitting her down on the couch.

“Is that what you do all night instead of sleeping next to me?” she asked as he joined her. There was an accusation in her tone, but he chose, rather foolishly, to graze over it.

“It didn’t _disintegrate_ ,” he countered, skeptical. She sighed, patting his knee.

“It turned to _ash_ in my mouth, dear.” His eyebrows knit together, and she tutted, reaching to rest a hand on his cheek. “I’ll be in the back.” She tapped his face a little too hard to be affectionate then stood up and walked back upstairs.

Now, after too long stood staring at her back out of the window, her breakfast was ready, if only slightly overdone. He’d even made her coffee just the way she liked it, cream and no sugar, scalding hot. He set it all on a tray, expertly balanced. And by expertly balanced, he meant he was on the brink of disaster, concentrating inordinately hard to make sure everything stayed upright and on the tray. He wasn’t quite as gangly as bowtie, but his coordination left something to be desired. River would throw in his running skills as well, but he resented that. He pushed open the screen door with his back and stepped carefully onto the stone tile patio.

“Feast your eyes, River, I’ve come to redeem myself,” he called triumphantly, and River dogeared her book and uncrossed her legs, turning to face him. The setting sun made her look positively ethereal, golden rays trickling between her curls, but it also reflected off her glasses and back into his eyes, momentarily blinding him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he wavered, the dishes clanking on the tray, hot coffee spilling onto his wrists. He opened his eyes to find her pulling the glasses from the end of her nose, folding them into her palm as she eyed him.

“My hero. Bested by a little sun?” she teased, brow raised. With a dark spot floating in his vision right over River’s face, he scoffed and walked carefully to her, setting the tray on the small table between the two wicker chairs. As he was leaning over, he waved a pointed hand haphazardly at her palm where the glasses rested.

“That’s...new,” he said, sitting down in the other chair, taking a napkin to wipe the coffee from his skin. She almost chuckled, warm and soft.

“Not new, but I’m surprised you noticed them again.”

“Hard not to when they nearly blinded me,” he accused, eyeing them. She closed her fist over the frames in response. “I didn’t mean the glasses were new,” he added suddenly, waving his hand. “The wearing them in front of me part is new,” he clarified, watching as something settled in her eyes. She shifted, sighing.

“Well, I couldn’t hide that I’m going blind forever, now could I?” she mused, her eyes roaming to her rattled breakfast. He’d seen those glasses before less than a handful of times. She’d wear them when she thought she was alone and quickly tear them off when he came in the room. Not knowing how to save her the trouble or embarrassment, he chose not to mention it the first time. But she looked stunning in them, beautiful in a delicate way that made his hearts clench. So when he realized that her humiliation was persisting, he told her as much in vastly less elegant words, kissing her flushed cheek as she swatted him away.

“They’re dangerous,” he added.

“They’re just glasses, sweetie,” she hummed, looking up at him, her demeanor shifting just slightly, closing off. The flicker of defensiveness and something oddly sad in her eyes sent his brain whirring incomprehensibly, and it was partly his desperate avoidance of difficult emotions and partly his misguided attempt to make it better that often led him to ramble.

“I can make them anti-reflective for you. I might need to dismantle the microwave, but if you give me an hour I could even make them sonic,” he suggested, his eyes glinting, the possibilities endless now.

“You can reassemble the microwave and break the faucet as much as you like, Doctor, but you won’t lay a finger on my glasses,” she warned. There was a hint of playfulness there, but the Doctor could see the frantic protectiveness behind her eyes as well. He drummed his fingers along the wicker, watching her set her book down on the ground. She kept the glasses in her lap, fiddling with the gold wire frames as she examined her breakfast. “Not burned, I’m actually impressed.”

“They are new-ish though, right?” he asked, tilting his head. She hummed vaguely, grabbing a piece of bacon and taking a bite. Her eyes lit up.

“This is good,” she said through a mouthful, grabbing her coffee as well.

“I would have noticed them before if they weren’t new,” he continued. She chuckled low in her throat, swallowing.

“You underestimate what your previous face didn’t notice, my love,” she mused. Her delicious smirk made the Doctor uncomfortable, and he bounced his knee, begrudgingly shifting his gaze to the garden. “This coffee’s just how I like it,” River said, her voice softer, and he looked at her. “Doctor, I’m...I mean this really is a pleasant surprise. Thank you.” She searched his eyes, and he did too, but not with the same affectionate sentiment behind it. She frowned, setting down her coffee. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“I wasn’t that oblivious,” he protested. She rolled her eyes.

“You were, trust me. But you are right. The glasses are new for both of us.” He cocked his head, leaning back.

“Put them on again,” he told her, and she raised her brow, skeptical. He waved her off and muttered something unintelligible that sounded suspiciously like _do it for me_. River complied, though reluctantly, and even in the sunset the Doctor saw her eyes flicker away from him, her shoulders curl inward. River loved being seen, loved the outfits and the confidence and the way she’d handcrafted her innuendos to be synonymous with her archeology. She was a force to be reckoned with, and sometimes that made it difficult to remember that some of her fears were crippling.

The glasses sat low on the bridge of her nose, the half moons purely dedicated to reading. They made her look older but in a careful and dignified way, scholarly. Her curls were wild and twitched in the breeze, and as she sat in her pajamas and bare feet, she was certainly a sight to behold. Lovely, warm, fresh faced River. He wanted to kiss her. So he did, pushing himself from his chair and taking a step forward to lean down and cup her cheeks, capturing her lips in a soft peck. She looked surprised when he pulled away and sat back down. “They don’t seem like your style,” he offered, and she smiled, biting her lip.

“That’s very presumptuous of you,” she countered, leaving them on this time as she leaned back in her chair. “I think they suit me.”

“I never said they didn’t,” he said right back. Her eyes sparkled, and his lips curled up.

“They were a gift, actually.”

“Another admirer?” he offered with a great exhale, trying to make himself taller in his seat.

“I do love it when you get jealous,” she grinned.

“And I’ve good reason to be! Married the diamond,” he scoffed with a shake of his head. She laughed, pushing herself up and settling down on his lap.

“If you say so,” she muttered, not giving him a chance to protest as her lips covered his.

The Doctor grinned at the memory, biting back a laugh as she pocketed the glasses and made her way to the console room. She spent most of that night cleaning, throwing away the remaining debris and making sure the room looked spotless for when her fam came in the next morning. She even made an inventory of all the parts she’d need for repairs and was delighted to find that she could get everything she needed on Luna. That is, with a little elbow grease mixed in anyway. And with every list she made and garbage bag she filled, another memory of River slipped through. All their misadventures and constant banter. Come to think of it, she was starting to see why Amy and Rory found them so insufferable. She chuckled at the thought, missing them as much as she did River.

It had been surprisingly nice to talk to Graham about her. Well, it had mostly been painful, but it did lift some of the weight of being at Luna off her shoulders. Pushing memories of River down had been the easy part. Actually holding onto the feelings that came along with them was something she’d been avoiding for quite some time, even with Clara, no matter how many times or how gently she asked to know. Graham being the one to finally hold her accountable for them somehow didn’t surprise her all that much. At the same time, she’d also never resented Yaz and Ryan’s quick thinking and good negotiation skills until now, and that was a notable though entirely selfish downside. After all, spending the entire day with River seemed like the most wonderful nightmare she could imagine.

Sooner than the Doctor expected, it was morning, and the three of them wandered in, one after the other. They looked around the room in surprise as she climbed out from under the console, wrench in hand. “Looks great in here, Doc,” Graham offered, wandering toward the controls, trailing his fingers over the buttons.

“Yeah, back to normal,” Ryan chipped in, and the Doctor took a deep breath, waving her wrench around.

“Almost, anyway. Still can’t get her off the ground. Made a list of parts though! We should be able to get everything we need on Luna,” she said, goggles dangling from around her neck.

“Uh, Doctor,” Yaz hesitated, leaning against the panelling on the console. She motioned to her cheek with her hand, and the Doctor frowned, mirroring the motion. She pulled her fingers back to find them covered in grease. She hummed thoughtfully, and Yaz smirked at her. “Let me help you with that and then we can get going, right?” she asked, and the other two nodded before Yaz led her to the bathroom down the hall from the kitchen. “Were you up all night in there?” she asked as the Doctor peeled off her goggles and set down the wrench on the bathroom counter, examining her face in the mirror.

“I don’t need much sleep,” she offered absently, scrubbing at the grease with her fingers.

“You’re just smearing it,” Yaz sighed, wetting a cloth and squirting a bit of soap onto it. The Doctor prodded her face with her fingers, frowning.

“Don’t think I’ve ever looked at myself up close like this before,” she mused, eyeing herself from side to side, trailing her fingers over the crow’s feet at her eyes. Like River’s.

“Never?” Yaz asked, surprised as she rubbed the soap into the wash cloth. “God, you’re lucky then. Spent hours in front of a mirror when I was younger, analyzing every line and spot. Drove me mad.”

The Doctor frowned, turning to face Yaz. “Why would it drive you mad?” Yaz blinked then, looking at the Doctor like she was growing a second head.

“I...I dunno. You focus on the imperfections for too long, and it all starts getting out of hand,” she offered, a bit rattled by the Doctor’s question as she moved closer with the cloth and gently wiped at her cheek.

“Imperfections imply that there’s an achievable perfection out there somewhere. And that’s just not true. Standards of beauty vary wildly between species. I mean, a Rylskerian would think that our faces ooze far too many liquids to be considered pretty, and our necks don’t have the sharpness necessary to even qualify as a secondary sex characteristic,” the Doctor burst, and Yaz grimaced, taking the cloth away from the Doctor’s face.

“Right, I don’t know what that means, but you’re making me feel really weird about touching your face.”

“Even within homogenous communities, the way we judge others is based on incredibly arbitrary things like the way your bones grow or whether or not you have pores,” the Doctor continued, raising her arms helplessly, watching as Yaz furrowed her brow and cocked her head back.

“That’s...not quite...you know what, I can tell you’re passionate about abolishing beauty standards across the universe, but you have to stay still so I can make you look presentable.”

“Presentable?” the Doctor asked, reluctantly folding her hands under her armpits, her coat stretching at the shoulders. Yaz continued wiping, occasionally wetting the cloth again.

“You’re spending the day with Professor Song, aren’t you?” Yaz asked, and the Doctor’s eyes shot to hers. Though she didn’t pull away quite yet.

“Not sure what you mean.”

“Doctor, I’m not blind,” Yaz teased, a smile poking at her lips as she met her gaze. “I know you have feelings for her.” The Doctor felt her ears burning and opened her mouth to protest, but Yaz beat her to it. “Have to admit it was a bit weird at first. I didn’t really see you as the has relationships type.”

“I don’t,” the Doctor pushed, her voice low and stern.

“Or the... _pining_...type,” she ventured.

“Most _certainly_ am not.”

“I mean, aren’t you a bit old to be chasing skirts?”

“Oi!” the Doctor protested, unfolding her arms and grabbing Yaz’s wrist. “Alright this isn’t make fun of the Doctor day,” she mocked as Yaz grinned, her eyes sparkling into the Doctor’s.

“Just...making observations,” she said innocently, and the Doctor nodded.

“Uh huh, sure,” she muttered, leaning over the sink and examining herself.

“Presentable enough?” Yaz asked, looking at the Doctor through the mirror. She hummed, poking at the red mark where Yaz had scrubbed off the grease.

“Think so, right?” she asked because she genuinely didn’t know. Yaz raised her brow and nodded encouragingly.

“Yeah, you really adhere to human beauty standards, Doctor. I mean top marks for bone growth, truly.”

Feeling rather accosted, the Doctor scrunched her nose, mouth falling open as she turned to face Yaz who was casually leaning up against the wall, arms folded over her chest. “I’m sorry I can’t control the way my bones grow, Yaz. Anyway, Gallifreyan beauty standards came first, and my nose would actually be quite ugly there.”

“Great argument. You should tell that to River,” Yaz countered as she slipped out the door and down the hallway. The Doctor scoffed, grabbing her wrench and goggles and jogging after her. Though she was fairly certain that the TARDIS gave Yaz a head start because by the time she made it back to the console room Yaz was already there and talking with Ryan.

“You made it! I was just saying how repulsive your nose is,” she grinned as Ryan snickered.

“Oh, for...you two are unbelievable,” the Doctor grumbled as Graham stepped in, though with a smile breaking on his face.

“Do we have an actual plan for the day or are we just gonna stand around bickering?” Yaz and Ryan’s grins melt into fond smiles, their shoulders bumping, and the Doctor smiled with them.

“Plan!” she clapped. “You three are gonna visit Dr. Staves to find out if she knows anything about the lockdown. I’m going over to River’s to help make sure security can’t track her,” the Doctor said, feeling their eyes burning on her. She quickly moved on. “But be careful, alright? If she knows anything sensitive it might get dangerous. We should keep in contact. Didn’t I used to have a phone somewhere?” the Doctor muttered, searching her pockets.

“You dropped it in the Screaming Lagoon when we were doing that boat tour of the Haunted Castle of Ysenia, remember?” Ryan offered. She did remember fumbling with it while trying to take a picture and then the fam whisper screaming at her as it slipped through her fingers in the wet, foggy air. They’d been warned to be quiet as any disturbance would cause the lake to emit a chorus of blood curdling screams. And it absolutely did so approximately two seconds after her phone delicately splashed into the water.

“Right,” she winced. “Well, maybe the TARDIS’ll give me a new one. These _are_ special circumstances,” she mused, striding toward the console, setting her wrench and goggles down and twisting a few knobs. After a few seconds of whirring, a flip phone slid out where her custard creams usually did. She picked it up with a grin, opening it to find the fam’s numbers pre-programmed in. “Perfect,” she smiled, her fingers trailing the console. It hummed under her touch as she stuffed the phone in her pocket. “Alright, off we go, fam!”

Their walk into town was rather uneventful until Yaz caught up with her, struggling to match the Doctor’s long strides as they led the other two. “Doctor,” she started, glancing over at her. She looked hesitant, delicate almost, which made little sense to the Doctor. “You know earlier, I was just giving you a hard time. I mean, you look great. Always do. Though I think River’s gonna notice that you never change your clothes,” she teased, a bit of a ramble, and the Doctor raised her brow at her.

“Hold on, you think I never change my clothes and you weren’t ever gonna bring it up?”

“Well, you don’t! I dunno, I thought it’d be rude or something.”

“Yaz, I have like 20 of this outfit,” the Doctor said, opening her coat and looking down at her clothes in all their rainbow, vibrant glory. Her boots were starting to get a bit tattered, but that was to be expected with how much use they got.

“Somehow...that’s worse,” Yaz said, eyeing her clothes.

“Worse!” she protested, and Yaz bit back a laugh. The Doctor’s eyes softened, and she stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I knew you were teasing,” she admitted with a shake of her head. “It just took me a minute to wrap my head around. Really, Yaz, I don’t do this. _Ever_.”

“Courting?” Yaz offered with half a smile.

“Any of it! Dating, relationships, I mean…I don’t...take interest in people like that. I’m not...it’s not something I do,” she struggled, and Yaz watched her carefully.

“But it’s different with River,” she guessed.

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” the Doctor grumbled. “And I’m not courting her!” she protested, a bit too loudly. She heard Ryan snort and Graham whack him in the arm behind her. “I know her, I mean _really_ know her, but she doesn’t know me. It would feel...wrong. Like I’m taking advantage or I dunno,” she shook her head, glancing up at Yaz. She must have noted the sadness in the Doctor’s eyes because she nudged her playfully.

“So do you get crushes on all your traveling companions or is it just archeologists? Should I put Ryan in a chastity belt?” she asked, throwing her thumb behind her.

The Doctor snorted, glancing back at Ryan who waved obliviously. “You’re my fam! River wasn’t...well...actually we’re not gonna get into that, but the point of you traveling the universe isn’t to focus on something silly like me. All I want is for you to see what I see because it is _breathtaking_ , Yaz. And you’d think seeing even a fraction of something so incomprehensibly vast would make you feel small, but it doesn’t. It makes you feel connected and important because that’s what you are. It changes your life.”

Yaz was quiet for a moment, her eyes flickering across the Doctor’s face. “Doctor, _you’re_ the one that’s changed my life. All those places are just places unless you have someone to share it with. And I don’t know what’s going on with River. Frankly, I’m not sure I trust her. But you don’t have to be the Doctor for someone to fall in love with you. You can be Jane.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was more of a fluff chapter, but things do move pretty quickly in the next two. I have them written already, but I think I'll be posting ch 10 next Sunday and ch 11 the Sunday after. And by that time hopefully I'll have ch 12 written and so on. 
> 
> Yaz definitely had some interesting things to say this chapter. Would love to hear your thoughts and thanks again for sticking with me through this winding adventure of a fic lol!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I said I'd update on Sunday, I genuinely forgot that I'd be moving out of my apartment that day. So here we are very very early on Sunday with a new chapter lol.

Before the Doctor parted ways with the three of them in the city, Ryan had pulled her aside to remind her that River would be home for the day and that she was expecting her. She knew he’d given her a half smile and a reassuring “Don’t stress it, Doc” as he clapped her on the shoulder, but she wasn’t sure she fully processed the sentiment because she had been muttering to herself the whole way to River’s house. It was mostly an endless stream of opening lines and then the soft self-chastising embarrassment of her awkward enthusiasm that followed. She felt as though she’d botched her hello in River’s office with that off kilter wave and lopsided smile, and she’d certainly ruined their first meeting enough for it to make her ears burn when she thought of it. She wasn’t sure that the third time was the charm in terms of first impressions, but the weight of River’s opinion intimidated her to the point of hesitation, her mind swirling in on itself. The Doctor worried, perhaps selfishly, that River only cared for her because she was, well, the Doctor.

Historically, she was exceptionally good at talking off the top of her head and, almost more importantly, doing so in a crisis. This was arguably not a crisis, though her hearts had yet to figure that out. Talking, however, when it came to a River that didn’t recognize her, had proved to be an unusually difficult task. For the first time in ages, she felt entirely out of her depth. 

Either way, she wasn’t quite ready to set aside the need for a good crisis ramble because she didn’t want to rule out the possibility of things going terribly wrong as they tended to do when River was involved. Or, as River had once fondly put it, terribly fun. At this point, the Doctor still hadn’t any idea what was really going on besides the fact that River had stolen something, again, and the consequences seemed about to catch up with her. Luna security was looming over her head which meant the artifact was dangerous or valuable or both. In theory, a stolen artifact and a high profile entity on her tail was a rather standard scenario for her. So it was the subtle urgency, worry maybe, in River’s demeanor that really caught the Doctor’s attention. 

And walking up to her front door was somehow just as surprising as it was to see her again, a kind of gentle astonishment that made the Doctor laugh in spite of herself. It was a small two story cottage just outside the suburbs of Luna, wildflowers lining the exterior. It had never truly been a home for the Doctor in the way it had been for River, but there was nothing she wanted more than for it to be one for her now. 

She remembered the first time she’d been there. It was soon after the Pandorica and some time before Lake Silencio. He wasn’t quite sure where River was in their timeline at that point, but it was clear that she was older, that she knew things that made her smirk and talk slowly, deliciously. They’d been on one of their adventures, gallivanting through some community in peril and managing to flirt their way to a daring and highly improbable victory. The Doctor, in his charismatically uncoordinated and ludicrous way, had claimed to be the mastermind of the plan. And River, ever the unsung hero, promptly reminded him both that there was no plan to begin with and that without her invaluable though violent contributions he would never have made it that far in the first place. The Doctor disapproved on principle, but it had saved them countless times before, and he knew it would save them countless times again. What amazed the Doctor the most, however, was his uncanny ability to float through incredibly dangerous situations on the back of a flirtatious dialogue. He hadn’t even realized that River was flying the TARDIS somewhere other than back to Stormcage until they were in the vortex. 

“Where are we off to now, River Song?” he asked in that lilting drawl, though secretly elated, as he strode toward her. He hovered close behind her shoulder, her curls tickling his cheeks, perfume wafting into his nose as he stared at the monitor. 

“Just need to make a quick stop before you send me back to prison, dear,” she breathed, looking down at a few knobs over her lashes and throwing a switch. They landed silently, and the Doctor glowered at her. She just smiled, soft and teasing, as she made her way to the front doors. He didn’t bother looking at the scanner. He’d found that it was much more fun not to. And as he stepped out into the blinding sunshine behind River, he was rather disappointed to find himself outside a house. Part of him expected an active volcano or maybe a robbery in progress at an ancient museum. He looked around. There didn’t seem to be any kind of danger nearby. 

“Are we breaking in somewhere?” he called, striding to catch up with River as she approached the house. 

“Shouldn’t have to,” River responded cooly, pulling something out of one of her many pockets. Birds chirped in the trees around the yard, and a bee buzzed by his ear. He had to admit he was rather surprised to see her unlock the front door and step inside. Frowning, he followed her. 

“Do you...live here?” he asked hesitantly, looking around at the dust floating in the air. The house was dark and cool, all the shades drawn. 

“Are you surprised?” she asked, setting down her things on the entry table and walking through to the kitchen. He followed, dumbstruck. There were paintings on the wall, a few photos of the four of them in places they hadn’t been yet, and scuff marks on the wood floor. It smelled faintly of honeysuckle and powdery soap and the stale air of a vacant home. Truth be told, he hadn’t pictured her living much of anywhere. River Song, to him then, was an enigma. One he was incredibly infatuated with, mind, but an enigma nonetheless.

“Where are we?” he asked, realizing he’d fallen behind and turned to dart after her. He found her rifling through the fridge, muttering something he couldn’t hear. 

“Luna, naturally,” she answered, closing the door with a candy bar between her teeth. She bit off the end and grabbed the still wrapped bit between her fingers, leaning up against the island. “I spent eight years getting a Ph.D. here. Where did you think I lived?” she asked between chews. Her hair was a bit scorched from their adventure, and there was dirt smudged across her face.

“I didn’t think you stayed in one, well, place,” he scratched at his chin and wrang his hands out, quickly pointing to the candy bar, “Is that a Snickers?” he asked, clasping his hands together again and trying to deflect from his frankly ridiculous lack of critical thinking.

“As difficult as this may be for you to process, like any other sentient being, I do require both food _and_ shelter,” she enunciated, pushing herself from the island as a blush rose to the Doctor’s cheeks.

“Did you bring us here just for a candy bar?” he asked as she walked around to a wine rack near the sink and got out a glass, blowing the dust off it. 

“And why shouldn’t I?” she countered, the cork coming out with a pop. “You think I can get 21st century Snickers bars at Stormcage? Besides, property tax is infinitely more irritating when I have to pay it from prison. Might as well get my money’s worth, even if I can’t be seen in my own home for...legal reasons,” she said, bringing the glass to her lips for a lazy sip, looking him over far too closely for his comfort. “Anyway, I think it’s sweet.” 

His eyes widened for a moment before he blinked, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “What is?” he asked, sauntering to stand in front of her as he hooked his thumbs low under his braces. Admittedly, he did rather enjoy being complimented. He caught a whiff of milk chocolate and red wine from her soft, dancing smile. 

“That in your mind I’ve transcended this mortal coil, exempt from corporeal existence only so that I may appear to you when you see fit,” she mused, eyeing him over her lashes as she took another bite of her Snickers. “That was my rather generous interpretation, I must admit,” she clarified, a bit of sharpness leaking into her tone and her eyes, and he swallowed. 

“River, that’s not—” 

“This is my home, Doctor, not an artifact for you to marvel at,” she told him firmly, and though he felt like he’d just gotten a slap on the wrist he knew he deserved it. 

“Of course,” he murmured, having trouble meeting her gaze as he bounced on his heels. River had chosen to entrust him with this part of her life, with a part of herself perhaps, and the gravity of her words made him feel entirely sure that he didn’t deserve it. So he glanced at the wine in her one hand and the candy bar in her other. “Did you take that from Rory’s stash?” he asked curiously. River’s face softened and a mischievous smile danced across her face.

“You mustn't tell him. He thinks it’s Amy,” she breathed and then laughed low in her throat. The Doctor chuckled along with her, drumming his fingers along his braces. 

. . . 

By the time Yaz, Ryan, and Graham got to the hospital, the sun was almost directly overhead, beating down on them as they walked. “So, how should we do this?” Yaz asked as they stopped around the block from the entrance. They glanced at each other. Ryan and Yaz shared a particularly knowing look, tense to the point of breaking, before Ryan shot his finger to the tip of his nose. 

“Not it,” he called, and Yaz followed suit a fraction of a second later. Graham was left staring between them, face screwed up incomprehensibly. 

“What in the name of...oh for god’s sake,” he grumbled. 

“You’ll be good at this, Graham,” Ryan encouraged with a smile, and Yaz nodded fiercely back. 

“Good at this my arse,” Graham muttered. “This is ageist, and I resent it.” 

“You’re taking one for the team,” Yaz reminded him, but he just scoffed as they flanked him on either side. “Just...remember to stay in contact. We shouldn’t be too long, but don’t be afraid to milk it a bit,” she said as Graham practiced his limp. He lifted his arms, and Ryan and Yaz swept in, an arm around his back to act like human crutches. 

“Next time, I’m disqualifying myself,” he wheezed, gearing up to perform some medical theatrics. 

When they hobbled into A&E as a half moaning unit of three, the head nurse took immediate notice of them. “I think my Granddad really messed up his ankle,” Ryan offered, half pleadingly. The nurse stood up to look at Graham, face twisted in pain, all the weight on his good ankle. 

“What happened?” 

“Hit a rut in the grass and his ankle just gave out, isn’t that right, Graham?” Yaz asked, and he nodded. 

“My, uh, my knee too. Been really tight. I think I pulled something,” he offered, voice strained, and Ryan glanced at him curiously. The nurse looked between the three of them and sat back down. 

“Well, have a seat then. Dr. Williamson will call you back to an examining room shortly,” she told them in that very cool and calm voice A&E nurses had. 

“No, I need to see Dr. Staves,” Graham protested, and the nurse frowned. 

“She’s not currently seeing patients.” 

“I can _only_ see Dr. Staves,” Graham said firmly, nearly tripping for effect. 

“Please, our friend saw Dr. Staves a few days ago, and she highly recommended her. It’s hard enough getting him to leave the house let alone go to hospital. He only let us take him here on the promise that he’d get to see Dr. Staves specifically,” Yaz pleaded, and Ryan nodded enthusiastically. 

“Bit of a hermit,” Ryan added. Graham let out a pitiful wail between them, and the nurse pressed her lips together, sighing. 

“I’ll...call her down,” she told them reluctantly. They thanked her profusely and found a seat in the waiting area. 

“Bit of a hermit?” Graham mocked as the nurse held the phone between her cheek and her shoulder. Ryan shrugged innocently, a smirk dancing on his lips. 

“Ryan, look,” Yaz hissed, and he turned to find the placard in front of the hallway where Yaz was motioning. “Offices are on the second floor. As soon as Dr. Staves gets here, we’ll go. Figure fifteen minutes?”

“Easily,” Graham piped up. “I’ve got a whole host of complaints I could flood her with. Just give the signal.” 

“So the knee was real then?” Ryan asked. 

“You think all that running we do is just fine on my poor joints?” Graham protested. “Son, you just wait ‘til you’re my age, and we’ll see how well you can keep up with all this nonsense.” 

“What, 107?” Yaz asked with a smirk. 

“Is it ageist if it’s just true?” Ryan asked Yaz, and Graham whacked him in the arm. 

. . . 

As the Doctor walked up to River’s front door, she couldn’t help but wonder if she still kept a stash of Snickers in her fridge. Part of her hoped she did. With a rousing deep breath and a secret goal to find out, she knocked on her wife’s front door. When she answered, all space hair and bright eyes, the Doctor grinned again, a blush rising to her cheeks. All her clever opening lines flew out the window, and she gave River a very articulate, “Hiya!” 

“Jane, perfect timing,” River said, stepping back to let her through. “Ryan said you could be of some use.” 

“Yep, right, that’s me, best mechanic this side of the Medusa Cascade,” she offered as River led her to the dining room. There was a rather impressive collection of equipment cluttered at her table. It looked like she’d been working there a while, possibly through the night. 

“Well travelled then, too,” River mused. “That’s halfway across the universe.” 

“I get around,” the Doctor shrugged, her eyes rising to meet River’s curious gaze. Her ears burned. What she wouldn’t give to have to stand on her toes to kiss those lips. “So, uh, what is it you need to eh,” she fumbled, shoving her hands into her pockets, trying to figure out how to speak. River clicked her tongue and took a quick step to the table, pressing her palms into the wood. 

“I’ve been trying to fashion some dampers out of what I have around the house, which is admittedly not as much as I’d like,” River muttered, motioning to a few circuit boards, some loose wires, and a host of other mechanical parts the Doctor frowned at. She also noted, curiously, that River wasn’t giving her a straight answer. 

“These are all from different ships, models, time periods,” she trailed off, picking up a circuit board and turning it around in her hands. “By the looks of it, this was ripped straight from a steering control panel on a cruise liner. 48th century, possibly Athulian,” she muttered, wondering what kind of trouble River had gotten into in order to possess a piece of circuitry like that. 

“Ryan did say you were good, but that’s...almost impressive,” River mused, looking her over. The Doctor scoffed, lowering the piece and scrunching her nose up. 

“ _Almost_? How many other people do you know that can identify a ship from a piece of wiring?” the Doctor spouted, a bit offended. 

“More than your ego would allow, I’m sure,” River chuckled, and the Doctor’s nose flared as she set the circuit back on the table, an irrational wave of jealousy coursing through her. Fair enough, River. One point there.

“Well, I could repurpose some things off my ship if we needed parts,” the Doctor offered, shaking her head. “Though I’d like to know exactly what it is you’re hoping to _dampen_. Could change the parameters of the device,” she said, meeting River’s steady gaze. In fact, she seemed aloof, not yet as trusting as she needed to be despite their previous conversations. 

“Why would you dismantle essential parts of your already damaged ship to help a stranger?” she asked, cocking her head at the Doctor, one hand pressed to her hip. 

“I’m just a traveler,” she shrugged. “My fam, we all are. We help where we can. Get into trouble ourselves from time to time. So we know how important it is to have a friendly face in our corner,” she admitted, watching as River softened to the point of surprise before taking a deep breath to steel herself again, blinking rapidly, confused. 

“No, you knew I was a time traveler,” River countered. “In the café, you accused me of stealing for the archeology department. And you knew I had something to do with the security lockdown a day after meeting me. But _I’m_ the one taking all the risks here, bringing you to my house, showing you the artifact, so I’m sorry, but we can’t work together if you don’t tell me the truth.” The Doctor’s ears burned again, though for a different reason this time as she scrambled to come up with a convincing lie.

“First of all, I was not _accusing_ you of anything, I was _warning_ you,” she countered. “I’ve...read about you. Your career. Heard some stories. So if I could figure out that you might be involved from some anecdotal talk, I’m sure that you’re _already_ on Luna’s watchlist,” she said forcefully, carefully. River took a breath, pondering that information as she shifted from one foot to the other. 

“And what do you think?” 

“Of what?” 

“The stories.” 

“Well, they can’t all be true, can they?” the Doctor asked with a curious chuckle. That part wasn’t a lie. She had heard plenty of stories about River Song over the years, not all of them the most pleasant and many just sensationalized accounts of their time together. But some she wasn’t sure about, lying in the gray area between truth and fiction, a place where River was particularly fond of letting her tales fester. 

And, in line with what she expected from River, professional archeologist and part time space vigilante, a smirk slunk across her face. “Some things are better left to the imagination, I think.” The Doctor couldn’t help but smile with her, an aching sort of fondness taking root in her chest. 

“I did hear that you broke into the Tuscany Museum on New Earth 7 to steal a proton gun?” she continued, hoping to sell the lie by citing one of her fairly easily researchable escapades, though something that would only be notable to a fan or a biographer. River raised her brow, brushing past her toward the kitchen. 

“It was my favorite,” she said simply, “I’d had it engraved, and I wanted it back. Tea?” The Doctor nodded from the dining room as River put a kettle on. It was only partially cut off from the kitchen, just a doorway and a small bar separating them, the bar stools stacked tall with archeological journals and dusty books. 

“You had a gun engraved?” the Doctor asked, a bit concerned. 

“What can I say, I’m sentimental,” she offered with half of a smile and a twitch of a shrug. Though her avoidance made something settle at the pit of the Doctor’s stomach. 

“What did it say?” she asked, not quite sure she wanted to know. 

“Bespoke,” River answered carelessly, but her voice echoed in the Doctor’s ears for what felt like an eternity. She recalled a newly regenerated River and a Berlin skyline. Melody had been perfectly conditioned, absolutely sure of herself yet so painfully adrift, floating through a world she couldn’t quite touch, emotions she couldn’t quite grasp. Madame Kovarian had designed it that way, detached so that she’d be devoted, lonely so that she’d be loyal. And the Doctor, that blind idiot, hadn’t realized that she would take his every word to heart, his bespoke psychopath. Frankly, the fact that she’d carried that word around with her for years made the Doctor queasy. 

Thankfully River didn’t seem to notice the Doctor’s mind drowning itself in guilt because she took a breath and got out two mugs for them. “Anyway, I’m not sure what your friends told you, but this artifact is radiating incredible amounts of artron energy,” she shook her head. “I’ve been keeping it in a dark star alloy safe, and so far it’s been able to keep the energy signature low enough not to arouse suspicion, but that’s only a temporary solution.” 

“And I assume you need it off planet so you can study it without getting charged for theft,” the Doctor added, her voice breaking but returning to her nonetheless. 

“You’re quick, I’ll give you that,” River admitted, dropping two tea bags into the empty mugs. “Follow me,” she instructed, and the Doctor did as she was told, trailing River down the hall and into her study. River had a safe in the wall behind a stolen Gustav Klimt, one River claimed was gifted to her as a thank you from a prestigious museum, but the Doctor knew better. As they approached, the hair at the back of her neck stood on end, a tingle running down her spine. A low buzzing had started up in her chest too, and she pressed her palm into her sternum, wincing. River made quick work of taking down the painting and turning the dial for the combination which, if the Doctor remembered correctly, was Amy’s birthday. Then she glanced back at the Doctor, gripping the handle that opened the safe. 

“Do you feel that?” the Doctor asked, nearly breathless, hand over her hearts. River nodded quickly. 

“It’s the artron energy. You time travel, so you’re more sensitive to it than others.” 

“I know that,” she grumbled. “It’s like my atoms are being tossed about,” she groaned, slipping her hand under her shirt to massage her shoulder. She could feel the artron energy inside her stirring, reacting to the particles behind the safe, building like it did before she regenerated. “Those energy levels must be—” 

“Astronomical, I know,” River breathed, smiling the way she did before doing something wildly dangerous. “Once I take it out of the safe, you’ll only be able to look at it for a short time before I have to put it back. Luna can trace the source quicker than you’d think.” 

The Doctor nodded, eyes set as she moved to stand next to River. She opened it quickly, reached in, and dropped an object into the Doctor’s waiting hands. It was heavier than she expected, and she turned it over in her hands. “It’s a gun,” she said, brow furrowed as she glanced up at River who nodded eagerly. The excess artron energy made her hands burn and tingle like they’d gone to sleep ten times over. She winced, her head buzzing as she was assaulted by wave after wave of artron particles. 

“From a battlefield,” River clarified, gritting her teeth. She seemed to be struggling with the same onslaught that the Doctor was. “It’s like standing in Chernobyl,” she added, scratching at her arm. 

“This really is just a gun. I mean, there’s nothing special about it,” the Doctor protested, examining it closer as if she’d missed something. She had to have missed something, right? “It’s not generating any artron energy.” 

“No, it’s just residual,” River said, shaking her head. 

“Contaminated,” the Doctor echoed, remembering what Yaz had said about it last night. Then River grabbed the gun from her hands and set it back in the safe, locking it as quickly as possible. The Doctor took an unsteady breath, holding out her numb hands and noting that her ears were ringing. It was almost like staring into the Untempered Schism, face to face with the incomprehensible power of time itself. Or like being at the epicenter of a paradox, artron energy bursting out with a force that could rip reality to pieces. 

“How’re your hands? It can be a bit jarring,” River said, reaching over to cradle one of the Doctor’s hands in her own. She ran her fingers along her palm and pressed in at the joints to make sure everything was functioning properly. The Doctor swallowed. 

“I’ll be fine,” she managed to croak, “just a bit tingly, see?” She squeezed River’s fingers reassuringly, thumb running over her knuckles, then let go and wiggled them to prove her point. River gasped into a smile, nearly a laugh, and nodded. 

“Right, good, of course. The, uh, water should be ready now. Hot drinks tend to ease the numbness,” she muttered, and the Doctor, with a faint smile, followed her to the kitchen. 

“Was it like that at the excavation site too?” she asked, balling her hands into fists over and over again to get some feeling back into them. River scoffed over her shoulder. 

“Worse. As soon as we’d uncovered some of the artifacts I could feel it. Unfortunately, none of my team are time travelers, so they only reported feeling faintly unwell, and even then,” she shook her head. “As I’m sure you know, prolonged exposure to the time vortex changes you. How you think, how you perceive time, and even how you perceive energy fields. You become more sensitive to artron particles. The longer you’ve time traveled the more severe it is,” she explained over her shoulder. And River was right, too. The kettle was screaming at them before they even made it all the way down the hall. As River poured them cups, the Doctor rubbed the back of her neck, a shiver running through her. It was certainly nothing she couldn’t handle, but it was still irritating. 

“Thanks,” she smiled as River handed her a mug. She gripped it with both hands, savoring the warmth as it bled under her skin. 

“So what do you think of my supplies?” River asked. The Doctor hummed, walking back to the dining room, River behind her. She surveyed them again. 

“If you want to be really safe, you probably need a couple more parts. I can grab ‘em tonight and be back tomorrow morning to finish it. Until then, I can get most of it done,” she confirmed with a nod. River nodded too, pulling out a chair to sit down. The Doctor followed. 

“And the gun?” she asked curiously. The Doctor hesitated, setting down her mug next to a few circuit boards. 

“Honestly, River, I have no idea. I’ve never seen anything like that before. The artifact itself isn’t dangerous, but I can’t imagine what was capable of infusing it with so much arton energy. Usually, it just dissipates,” she offered, knees knocking as she talked with her hands. River chewed at her lip and set down her own mug. 

“You mean a weapon, then.” 

“Tell me you weren’t thinking the same,” the Doctor countered, and River sighed. 

“How would artron energy be weaponized? Nothing about it is inherently volatile.” 

“Start with the planet then. Where was the excavation site?” she asked, and River shook her head. 

“Just a small farming planet. Certainly not technologically capable of time travel let alone a weapon of that calibre. I mean, it was Ptolem,” she offered, and the Doctor frowned. 

“Wait a minute, that name sounds familiar. Why does it sound familiar? Oh. _Oh_!” she stood up, coat flapping out. She pressed her fingers to the bruise under her eye, yellowing now. River raised her brow, mildly amused. “My doctor. When we crashed. Did my stitches. Ptolem. She was from Ptolem!” 

“The one who told you that the staff have secrets?” River clarified curiously. The Doctor nodded enthusiastically. “You think she’s involved somehow?” 

“She must know something if she bothered telling me that. Ohhhh, no. Ryan, Yaz, and Graham are there right now. If she’s involved…” 

“They could be in danger,” River finished for her. “Call them.” Frantically, the Doctor dug through her pockets and pulled out the phone, flipping it open and dialing Yaz. “Is that a flip phone?” River asked, scrunching up her nose. 

“Yes, and?” the Doctor shot back mockingly. River laughed, shaking her head and holding up her hands in mock surrender as the phone rang in the Doctor’s ear. “Come on, Yaz, pick up.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are building?? Would love to hear your thoughts! Some exciting reveals in ch 11 too, so look out for it next Sunday!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter has been building for a while now. Hope it's just as exciting to read as it was for me to write! Updates might be sporadic after this between moving and my classes starting up again, but I do have a conclusion in mind for this story, so it won't go unfinished! 
> 
> Also I keep forgetting to mention this in the chapter notes, but the title is from Ane Brun's cover of "Ain't No Cure for Love." Would definitely recommend giving it a listen if you haven't heard it before!

Ryan and Yaz made quick work of finding Dr. Staves’ office and were exceptionally thankful to find it unlocked. Ryan stood at the door while Yaz slid in and flicked on the light switch. It wasn’t a particularly large office, but it was homey, picture frames littering the desk and the walls. She quickly sat in a rolling chair and flipped through the papers on her desk, mostly administrative things and a few patient charts. So, she rifled through her desk drawers, hoping to stumble on some valuable information. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was expecting, but she’d know it when she saw it. When that yielded nothing of value, she moved onto the computer, wiggling the mouse to turn the monitor on. 

“Find anything?” Ryan hissed, peeking his head in. 

“Not yet. She has family, though. Lots of ‘em, looks like,” Yaz offered as Ryan peered around. There were photos with huge groups of people draped over each other, grinning and making silly faces. Ones with smaller groups too, maybe four or five, posing for graduations and get togethers. Some were blurry candids, some weren’t, and there were a handful that looked like weddings. Though they didn’t resemble any wedding that Ryan knew of on Earth. The participants wore identical ceremonial robes in each photo, highly ornate things, often with golden thread and weighted fabric. Ryan traced his fingers over one of them. It looked old, traditional maybe, though he didn’t know what that meant for the people in the picture. Sometimes it looked like groups of three or four or even five were marrying each other without any kind of officiator. It was different from everything he’d been taught about marriage, so he found it strange, but the intimacy between the participants was palpable and that made him smile a little. 

“Could be blackmail?” Ryan offered, and Yaz shrugged. 

“Yeah, if we could find any evidence. We don’t even know how she knew about the security lockdown or Professor Song’s artifact,” Yaz muttered, clicking through the files on Dr. Staves’ hard drive. Ryan glanced back around the hallway before turning to Yaz again. 

“What d’ya think of her? Professor Song, I mean.” 

“Honestly, I’m not sure I trust her. I know the Doctor cares about her, but I mean even _she_ admitted that River’s dangerous. And we know she hasn’t been entirely truthful with us.” 

“The Doctor trusts her, though. That’s gotta count for something. She’s never steered us wrong before,” Ryan countered. 

“But do _you_ trust her?” she asked, looking up from the computer. Ryan didn’t answer, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I think the Doctor’s feelings for River are clouding her judgment.” Ryan scoffed at that, shifting his weight, and Yaz’s eyes shot to him in surprise. 

“I think your feelings about the Doctor’s feelings are clouding _your_ judgment. Didn’t they travel together?” he asked with half an amused smile, and Yaz’s ears burned. “I don’t _have_ to trust her. I just have to trust the Doctor.” 

“Shut up and watch the door,” she muttered, hiding her face behind the screen. Ryan hesitated for a moment then stepped back into the hallway. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding when he was gone, heart in her throat. Ryan had a point, and she did wholeheartedly trust the Doctor, so what was the problem? Briefly, Yaz entertained the possibility that she was being selfish and possibly possessive of someone who had every right to take a break from making her feel like the center of the universe. The bitterness crept up her throat until she swallowed and shook the thoughts from her head, those lingering insecurities from her childhood. “I am not an obligation,” she reminded herself, turning her attention back to Dr. Staves’ emails. One of which she paused at, sitting up taller in her seat. The subject line was “Updates?” and it read: 

Allison,

Have you talked to PS yet? Has Luna gotten involved? It’s been difficult to keep the Council at bay. They need results.

Loren

Dr. Staves hadn’t replied yet, so Yaz took a picture of it with her phone then marked the email as unread, just the way she’d found it. She figured that if this was an email requesting an update then logically there must be something preceding it. Yaz went up to the search bar and typed in the sender’s address. It found her a long list of correspondences. She glanced at the subject lines. Many seemed too personal and therefore irrelevant, but it was worth noting that Allison and Loren were close.

She quickly found another email with the subject line “Project Approval” and clicked on it. 

Allison, 

Your suggestion was brilliant. I brought it up with the Council of Elders. They’re skeptical but want to give it a try. I’m really counting on you here. This is our one chance, Al. We’re going to send a request to Luna tomorrow asking for an archeological team. From there, it’s all up to you. 

Talk soon, 

Loren

Allison had replied to this one. It read: 

Loren, 

I’m so glad to hear it! I won’t let you or the Council down. I’ve already confirmed that PS is available. She’ll be on the transport ship to Ptolem with a team of her choosing within the week. I can assure you, she’s simply the best when it comes to these kinds of things. 

Allison 

Yaz gaped, sitting back in her seat. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that PS was Professor Song, but what really caught her attention was the mention of Ptolem. River had said that she and a team had been contracted out; presumably the request came directly from Ptolem itself. That must be where Dr. Staves is from. The implications sent her mind reeling. By themselves, the emails could be read as innocuous conversations, and even the recommendation to use Professor Song was by itself unassuming. However, knowing that what came from the dig site was putting Luna on high alert pointed to collusion of some kind. And River seemed to be at the center of it. If it was truly a simple request, why would they use PS instead of Professor Song if not to conceal her identity, and why would Loren ask if Luna had gotten involved if their goal was to utilize Luna’s archeological services? Their target must have been River specifically. Yaz quickly took another picture of both emails just as Ryan stuck his head back in. 

“Just got a text from Graham. She’s talking with the head nurse, but she’ll be back any minute,” he told her in hushed tones. She swore, making sure the desk was exactly as it was when she’d entered. 

“I just need a little more time,” she whispered back frantically. 

“One minute, then we have to go,” Ryan warned, and she nodded, turning back to the emails. She searched the subject lines for anything else that could be incriminating. She glanced at a few promising ones, but they didn’t give her anything concrete. Their emails otherwise were lengthy and detailed, meaning that the ones she’d taken pictures of were intentionally sparse. They’d probably spoken on the phone to avoid anything that could be traced back to them. There was a loud trilling from her pocket, and Yaz nearly jumped out of her seat, fumbling with it and pressing it to her ear. 

“Doctor?” she asked, breathless. 

“Yaz! Good to hear your voice. Are you alright?” she sounded breathless as well. 

“Fine, yeah. Um, is something wrong?” 

“Dr. Staves is from Ptolem, where River found the artifact. She’s involved somehow. I think you should get out,” she warned, and Yaz raised her brow. 

“Way ahead of you, Doctor,” she muttered, opening another promising email. “Are you with River?” 

“‘Course, why?” 

“Just...be careful yourself. I think she’s involved,” she said, reading over another email. It read: 

Allison,

Are you sure PS is the right person to use? Been researching. She seems dangerous.

Loren

Loren,

She’s one of the only people left who knows how to operate TL technology outside of TS. She might be our only hope.

Allison 

“How do you mean?” the Doctor asked cautiously. 

“Doctor, I have to go. We’ll come ‘round to River’s place,” she said quickly before hanging up. 

“Yaz, we have to go, now,” Ryan said, ducking into the room and reaching to grab her arm. Yaz took a picture as quickly as she could and exited out of the window, turning off the monitor. Distantly, they heard Dr. Stave’s voice talking to a coworker, and adrenaline surged through Yaz’s veins. She let him lead her out into the hall, and they ducked toward the stairwell in a clumsy, frantic jog.

They were breathless when they reached the outside of the hospital, ducking through a back entrance to meet Graham where they’d started around the block. They’d been looking over their shoulders, a bit paranoid, before finally relaxing when they caught sight of Graham. He waved happily as they approached. 

“Frankly, I don’t even care whether you’ve got something useful or not because Dr. Staves is a saint. She gave me a prescription _and_ physical therapy instructions for my knee,” he pointed out, resting comfortably on a bench. “Remembered the Doc, too, and wished us well getting out of Luna during the security lockdown.” 

“Did she say anything else?” Ryan asked, catching his breath. Graham just shook his head. 

“Turns out she didn’t need to,” Yaz piped up, waving her phone at them. “It’s not a lot, but it’s something.”

When she’d shown them the emails and explained her theory, the two of them frowned. “Whatever’s going on with Dr. Staves and this Loren, it doesn’t necessarily mean that River’s knowingly involved. Why would she accept our help if she was already working with Allison?” Graham pointed out, and Yaz prickled at his defense of River. “Those emails raised more questions than they answered. I don’t think we need to jump to attack Professor Song quite yet.” 

“The Doctor, Loren, and Allison have all agreed that she’s dangerous. I want to know why. And what technology can she operate that no one else can?” Yaz countered. “She could have been hired and got in over her head.” 

“Yaz’s got a point, but I still think we should wait to ask Professor Song about it first. I mean, when have we ever gone right in assuming the worst about people?” Ryan mediated, glancing between them. Yaz felt her cheeks burning again and glanced away. Graham just gave him a weak smile, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s go back to River’s. We’ll figure it out there,” he sighed, leading them out of the city.

. . . 

The Doctor closed her phone and shoved it back in her pocket, frowning. “What is it?” River asked, shifting in her seat. 

“Yaz said she found something. They’re heading over now,” she dismissed, sliding off her coat and draping it over the back of her chair. She pushed up the sleeves of her white undershirt and sat back down, hunched over the dining table in a thoughtful daze as she picked through River’s stash. 

“What is it you’re not telling me?” River asked, voice low as she watched the Doctor carefully. 

“What makes you think—” 

“You’re far more transparent than you realize, Jane,” she mused, wrapping her fingers around her mug. The Doctor sighed, arms draped over the table. She wondered if it was just this face that was transparent or if she didn’t change as much as she thought she did between bodies. Maybe seeing through her was just something River could do, regardless of the face. It was an oddly comforting thought. 

“Yaz seems to think that you’re...involved somehow. Though with what, she didn’t say. She must have found something that would suggest as much in Dr. Staves things. They should be here soon,” she admitted. River sat back in her chair, processing the information. 

“To be quite honest, I don’t blame her,” she said, and the Doctor’s eyes shot to hers. River had an arm over the back of the chair, one leg folded over the other, radiating that brazen confidence the Doctor was so familiar with. She bit back a smile, and a corner of River’s mouth quirked up in response. 

“Are you saying I shouldn’t trust you?” the Doctor asked, and River laughed, bubbling up from her chest in rolling waves. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” she smiled, wide and long, and the Doctor grinned back, something stirring inside her. A call back to the early days, the Byzantium and the Pandorica, when she liked to make him squirm. 

There was a knock at the door shortly after, and River got up to answer it. The Doctor heard some brief conversation in the entryway and took a sip of her tea, her hands still buzzing faintly. Then River led her fam back into the dining room, and the Doctor smiled. There was something simmering between the three of them though, and her smile dropped. “Everything okay?” Yaz stepped forward first, holding out her phone. 

“I took pictures of a few emails. It’s not a lot, but it’s somewhere to start,” she offered as the Doctor took her phone. Yaz glanced back at Graham who nodded decisively, encouragingly. “I...have a theory, but we think it’s best to hear River’s side of things first.” 

“Why don’t we sit down then,” River sighed, offering them all seats. After they were all settled and had tea in front of them, the Doctor set to reading the emails out loud so River could hear. 

“...She’s one of the only people left who knows how to operate TL technology outside of TS. She might be our only hope. Allison…” the Doctor trailed off, finishing the final email. The color drained from her face, and she knew the shock was plain as day on her face because all four of them frowned at her. 

“Jane…” Yaz hesitated, and the Doctor swallowed, looking to River. She seemed just as unsettled. Yaz looked between them, trying to intercept their cryptic expressions. “Okay, you look genuinely unnerved,” Yaz said to River who blinked as if emerging from a dream and shook her head. 

“Proper rattled. Both of you,” Ryan added, and the Doctor shifted in her seat, struggling to stay silent. She bit down hard on her lip as she watched River connect the dots the same way she had. 

“Of course,” River breathed, staring at nothing in particular. Graham, Ryan, and Yaz looked to the Doctor expectantly, but she shook her head as subtly as possible, hoping to convey the idea that she had to let River take the lead on this one. That she couldn’t be the Doctor here. 

“Of course, what?” Graham asked then, turning back to River. 

“The artifact—the gun—that’s why it’s giving off so much artron energy,” she mused, pushing back her chair and standing up. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Ptolem has access to some kind of Time Lord technology. That’s what the initials were. TL,” she burst, looking between them, arms out, stopping when she saw their bewildered looks. “And you have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

The Doctor could feel the fam hesitating, not sure what to say, so she stepped in, “I...know a bit about the Time Lords,” she offered, and she could feel everyone’s eyes on her, all for vastly different reasons. “Though I can’t imagine what kind of Gallifreyan tech could leave behind an artron signature like that.” That was actually the truth. In hindsight, it did make sense that this would be some kind of Time Lord technology, but it was certainly nothing the Doctor had ever encountered. 

“And why are you one of the only people left who knows how it works?” Yaz asked curiously, half directed at the Doctor as well. The Doctor’s hearts dropped to her stomach with a painful lurch. She’d been actively avoiding this conversation for a year now, shrugging off questions about her home, refusing to give straight answers. She’d told Yaz a little bit about the Time War a few days ago but had omitted it’s conclusion or the fate of her planet. Mostly, she was upset that the answers her friends had been seeking since they’d met were coming from River and not her. To intervene on River’s behalf was the very least she could do for her fam. 

“Gallifrey…” the Doctor started, avoiding eye contact with River. She made sure to tell the version of the story that someone like Jane Sinclair would know, promising herself to tell the fam the truth once they were back in the TARDIS. “Burned. In the Time War. It’s gone.” Her voice lost steam at the end, and in the wake of her friends’ horrified and confused expressions, River picked up the slack. 

“The Time Lords were completely wiped out. Most of the Daleks too. Though they tend to pop up in very inconvenient clusters every now and then,” River muttered, pressing her hands to her hips. 

“Jane,” Yaz started, reaching out to place a hand on the Doctor’s forearm. She pulled it away, taking a deep breath. 

“I’ll tell you about it later,” she exhaled, forcing herself to look at Yaz then Ryan then Graham, a silent promise. 

“We had no idea,” Graham breathed, brow furrowed. “You’ve mentioned the Time Lords before, but you never said they were gone.” 

“Oh don’t tell me you’re a fan of _them_ too,” River drawled, staring at the Doctor, her face twisted in disgust at the fam’s hesitant consoling. The Doctor’s mouth nearly dropped open, all that residual mourning flying out the window. 

“Now that is just rude,” she scoffed. She couldn’t deny being a fan of River Song, but she could easily and vehemently deny being a fan of the Time Lords. A smile crept over River’s face, and the Doctor followed suit to the utter confusion and horror of the fam.

“How do you know about the Time Lords? Much of their history’s been wiped from databases across the universe. By understandably angry victims of the Time War no less,” River said, and the Doctor nodded, the lies coming easily now in the form of an extremely exaggerated truth. 

“Repaired an old time ship once. Had to teach myself how it all worked. Got lost in the research. I do quite fancy a bit of history,” she said, nose scrunched. 

“But why you? I mean clearly there are others who know how to use Time Lord technology,” Yaz asked River, referring to the Doctor. Or Jane in this case. 

“Very, very few,” River countered with a shake of her head. “But I can promise you, I had no idea about Allison and Ptolem. I can only imagine they must need me for something.” 

“That’s what Yaz thought. That they were targeting you specifically, not Luna, when they requested an archeology team,” Graham said, and River sighed, sitting back down. She looked to the Doctor. 

“You were right then,” she said, and the Doctor looked down, wishing she hadn’t been. 

“Right about what?” Ryan asked, looking between them. 

“They probably have some kind of weapon. A remnant from the Time War,” she answered wearily. 

“If they need me, they must not know how it works. Or it’s damaged. But why would Ptolem possibly need a weapon? They’ve always been a peaceful planet, never even had a civil war,” River mused, and the Doctor shook her head. They fell into a tentative silence, all their heads buzzing quietly. 

“What about TS?” Ryan asked softly, and they all looked to him. The Doctor felt her blood pressure rising again, avoiding eye contact with River. “In the email, she said the only other person who knows about Time Lord stuff is TS.” 

River took a deep breath, straightening her posture. “That’s something else I’m concerned about. TS isn’t a name that just anyone knows.” 

“So who is it?” Yaz asked, and the Doctor grit her teeth, bracing herself for the onslaught. Unfortunately, this was something she couldn’t step in to tell them before River did. As Jane, there was no way she could know. A sly smile spread across River’s face, and the Doctor forced down a blush, knowing exactly what two words were coming next. 

“My husband,” she offered with sultry, careless ease. Graham sputtered, choking on his tea. In a panic, the Doctor immediately propped her elbow up on the table and pressed the side of her hand into her forehead to hide her face. He coughed violently a few more times amid a chorus of concerned voices, his eyes watering. 

“Sorry,” Graham coughed, shaking his head as Ryan and Yaz fretted over him. “Dunno what came over me there,” he wheezed, glancing at the Doctor who was starting to emerge from behind her hand. He looked confused, knowing those definitely weren’t her initials, and she winced, shaking her head as discreetly as possible, eyes wide. 

“On Gallifrey, children are taught at the Academy. It’s tradition that they be given a nickname during their time there. TS stands for Theta Sigma. It’s my husband’s old Academy nickname. Long since disused and certainly not common knowledge,” she explained. “But...Ptolem must have intimate knowledge of the Time Lords to even know that it exists. I haven’t heard it used in reference to my husband in...well, longer than I can remember,” she scoffed. The Doctor could feel Yaz and Ryan frowning, pondering the idea of another Time Lord out there, perhaps entertaining twinges of recognition, the beginning of a possibility. “A mystery for another day, I’m afraid. But Jane, with the research you’ve done you might have heard of him. Theta Sigma. More commonly known throughout the universe as the Doctor.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot happened in this chapter lol. Would love to know your theories!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mild discussion of Stormcage ptsd in one of the Doctor's flashbacks
> 
> I feel like I say this for every chapter, but I'm very excited about this one, and I hope you like it! Admittedly, it was written mostly yesterday, but I think it turned out well!

A heavy silence settled over the dining table. She didn’t have to look at her fam, and she certainly didn’t want to, to know how they were feeling. “The...Doctor,” Yaz hesitated, cutting through the quiet, her chin down as she looked from River to the Doctor and back again. 

“Yes,” River answered simply. “You’ve heard of him then?” She had that lilt to her voice, the one she used when she was enjoying herself, all puffed up and trying to contain it. 

“Just...a few things,” Graham stepped in. The fact that he’d known beforehand made him reassuringly calm amid Yaz’s uncertain astonishment and Ryan’s poorly concealed bewilderment. The Doctor took a quick breath, holding it as she hid her face from Yaz with a few fingers pressed expertly into her forehead. Or perhaps that was just to quell the headache that was rapidly building behind her eyes. “I think Jane’s...well...mentioned _him_ before.” With a drawn out exhale, the Doctor dragged her fingers down the side of her face and propped her chin up with her knuckles, plastering on a strained and distracted smile. 

“With the, uh, chin, yeah?” the Doctor chimed, and River positively lit up. 

“You’ve met him!” 

“Oh...once,” she dismissed, avoiding eye contact. She could feel Yaz boring holes into the side of her head. “There was a good amount of running involved.”

“Isn’t there always,” River chuckled. “And you never forget that face, do you? Like a baby giraffe,” she nearly cooed, and Ryan snorted but quickly turned it into a cough when the Doctor shot him a discreet glare. 

“Do you happen to have a picture?” Yaz asked, trying to sound innocent. Feeling the situation spiraling out of her hands, the Doctor’s hearts pounded out a bruising rhythm against her chest. 

“I do keep a spotter’s guide around here somewhere,” she muttered, standing up. As soon as she’d left the room and was safely out of earshot, Yaz turned and punched the Doctor in the arm. She jumped, rubbing the spot as she leaned away from Yaz. 

“Ouch!” she hissed, but Yaz just did it again. 

“You’re married?” she hissed back, and the Doctor shushed her frantically, hands hovering over Yaz’s arms as she glanced to the hallway that River had disappeared down. “You’re _married_. To _River_ ,” she repeated, and the Doctor wasn’t sure if she was looking for confirmation, if it was some kind of accusation, or if she was just trying to process the information. 

“You said she just traveled with you,” Ryan frowned, leaning over the table. 

“She did! Sort of,” the Doctor winced, holding her sore arm. It was a weak, knee jerk defense, and the Doctor regretted saying it as soon as it left her lips. The crease in Yaz’s brow deepened as Ryan scoffed, leaning back in his chair. 

“Doc,” he shook his head. He looked disappointed, a frown settling into his face, which was entirely worse than him being angry. She glanced at Graham, but his sympathy was pinched with a helpless apology. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Yaz asked, almost pleading. 

“That’s kinda messed up,” Ryan added. That one stung, a knot coiling in her stomach, and she glanced over to Graham who she knew couldn’t speak for her but hoped would give her some guidance anyway. He just stared right back, lips pressed. That was fair. She was starting to get a sinking suspicion that the walls might be inching closer to her chair. Between River and the rightful anger of her fam, the Doctor felt a little claustrophobic, wringing her hands out and taking a breath. No getting around it this time, she supposed. 

“I thought it would hurt too much,” she admitted quickly, unable to look them quite in the eyes. Her ears were burning, and the shame clawed its way up her throat, settling into a hard lump. “I know how you humans are with grief. I…” she paused, hearing her voice sharpen and speed up. “I didn’t want to burden you with mine,” she settled on, her shoulders deflating. When she caught Yaz’s eyes, the Doctor knew that she understood how much deeper it ran than grief. Though that didn’t stop her from being upset, and the Doctor felt herself tightening up against that kind of vulnerability, all those defense mechanisms she’d collected rising to the surface. 

“Here we are!” River interrupted, walking back into the room with something wallet shaped and leather bound. The moment broken, the four of them looked to River as she sat back down. However, it was the Doctor who felt observed, every move dissected in light of this new information. She felt stiff and uncomfortable under their scrutiny but tried to push it down as a fond smile settled over River’s face. “Poor man sticks out like a sore thumb half the time, but it’s still nice to have a cheat sheet handy.” 

The Doctor refrained, but only barely, from scoffing, her defensiveness bubbling over as River opened the wallet and a string of pictures tumbled out. She’d seen that before. Just before Darillium when they’d escaped with Hydroflax’s head. River had put them on display like she was some kind of bounty hunter, and the Doctor had felt scandalously objectified, though in a way he hadn’t expected to like. 

“With your dress sense, I’d suspect you’d find his array of outfits rather stylish, dear,” River teased, and the Doctor did scoff then, but it was more of a snort with a smile and a hint of a blush. It surprised her a little just how much she enjoyed being called dear. It was a casually intimate sort of sweetness that this body hadn’t experienced yet. Though the Doctor was actively and a bit fearfully counting her blessings, wondering how River hadn’t suspected anything yet. At least, if she did, she wasn’t letting on. 

“See, _you_ think that’s an insult, but I see it more as a compliment,” the Doctor said pointedly, leaning forward in her chair to poke the roll of photos. “I mean look at that…” she trailed off, stopping at the first picture she could get her finger on. “...stick of celery…” she grimaced. 

“Hold on,” Ryan said, eyes wide, and he and Yaz practically scrambled to their feet to get a good look at the photo. Yaz pressed her hand over her mouth to suppress a gasp, turning to the Doctor and barely containing a grin. 

“Now that is just criminal,” Yaz groaned, tracing her finger over the red accents on his tan coat. 

River hummed, “You know, Jane, I think I see your point there.” The Doctor blushed deeper as Ryan laughed, hand pressed to his stomach as he flopped back down in his seat. 

“Real snappy looking bloke you married there,” Ryan grinned at River. 

“When he tries, very hard, sometimes he manages to look half decent,” she laughed with him as Yaz and Graham picked through the photos of the Doctor’s previous faces. 

“I see what you mean about the chin,” Graham scoffed, glancing back at the Doctor and then again to her previous face with the bowties and the tweed. Yaz looked at her too, for a moment. Though she was more looking through the Doctor than anything, trying to imagine a different face, a different body, a different person. 

“And that’s the one you married?” Yaz asked, turning back to River. Her brow twitched, and she pressed her lips together, taking the photos back and folding them up again. 

“I married the _Doctor_ ,” she clarified, a hint of a bite to her words. “But that was the face it happened with, yes.” The Doctor could see the questions bubbling up behind Yaz’s eyes, could sense her calculating curiosity and insatiable need for answers. So, gently, she placed a hand on her knee under the table. Yaz glanced back to the Doctor, surprised, and slowly relaxed when she saw the reassurance in her eyes. The Doctor would answer her questions later. She had a promise to keep, after all.

“I should probably get started on those dampers,” the Doctor said, taking her hands back into her own lap. River glanced back at the clock in her kitchen and raised her brow. 

“I’d say so. I have class tomorrow morning,” River said, standing up and taking her empty mug to the kitchen. As she came and took the others’ away as well, the Doctor grabbed a circuit board and the tools that River had provided and got to work. When she was done in the kitchen, she came to stand next to the Doctor, palms pressed into the table as she oversaw her work. The Doctor could feel her hovering and set down her screwdriver, glancing around and up at River’s quizzical expression. 

“Up to par?” she asked. River hummed and cocked her head. 

“Are you starting with the regulator? Wouldn’t it be smarter to start with the containment field and the de-escalators and _then_ move onto the regulator?” she asked, motioning vaguely to the circuit in the Doctor’s hand, her other pressed to her hip. 

“But I can’t build a containment field until I know how strong the regulators are,” the Doctor countered. 

“All I’m saying is that you can’t properly calibrate the regulator until the de-escalators are programmed,” River pointed out. 

“Would you like to give it a go?” the Doctor asked, an accusation creeping into her tone.

“Oh, no, it seems like you’ve got it well under control,” she mused, walking back to her seat at the opposite head of the table, past a very invested Yaz, Ryan, and Graham. The Doctor wasn’t actually at the other head of the table, Yaz was. Technically, she was one seat to the right, but she liked to think that she was at the _intellectual_ head of the table. 

“Backseat... _mechanic_ is what you are,” the Doctor muttered, glancing up at River as she grabbed some tools and started work on what the Doctor assumed were the de-escalators. River flashed her a smirk and quirked up an eyebrow, almost a challenge. Graham coughed, and the Doctor glanced up to see her fam thinking what seemed to be a collective thought based on the looks they were sharing. The Doctor narrowed her eyes. 

“So, Professor Song,” he started, “this artifact. Is it dangerous? Is that why Luna’s looking for it?” 

“Well, it is a gun, but that’s not the reason Luna wants it. Considering Allison Staves apparently needs me more than she needs Luna, I doubt that Ptolem’s reported an artifact from the excavation site _missing_. We’re not allowed to take anything off planet unless specifically authorized by said planet,” River explained like she was already bored of saying it. “So all Luna knows is that something spiked their artron readings. Typically, that means time travel equipment. And since time travel is currently illegal, they’re obligated to conduct an investigation. Len and I got back from Ptolem a day before you lot crashed. So, it’s the end of day four for their engineering internals. I’m sure they’ll be moving onto the archeology department if not tomorrow then the day after,” River offered with a shake of her head. 

“Are you worried?” Yaz asked, resting her arms on the table. 

“I’ve got too many things to be worried about to actually take the time to be worried about them,” River half chuckled, and the Doctor paused to glance up at her. River, like the Doctor, tended to keep her cards close to her chest. It was incredibly rare for her to admit to being even a little rattled. 

“The dampers should be ready tomorrow, River,” she reminded her gently. “Luna won’t find out.” 

“If I thought that you actually had a stake in this besides your compulsive, and frankly reckless, good samaritanism, I might believe you,” River countered, her voice low and quick, never taking her eyes off her work. 

“Fair enough,” the Doctor admitted, earning the glances of her fam. She was sure they were wondering where her omnipresent, and often aggressive, optimism was. 

Then breaking the relative peace of the dining table, there was a heavy, rapid knocking on River’s front door, and the four of them instantly looked to her. Ryan glanced at his phone to check the time. It wasn’t late, but it certainly wasn’t the sort of time anyone would drop by for a visit. 

“Stay in the kitchen out of sight,” River instructed, her voice taking on a heavier, more commanding tone, eyes set on the front door from her seat at the table. The knocking came again as they all got up and moved. River opened her pantry and, to her fam’s surprise, pulled out a proton gun. The Doctor was more surprised that she didn’t already have one on her person. She could feel Yaz tense next to her, her police training kicking in. She looked at the Doctor expectantly, but the Doctor just shook her head, pressing a finger to her lips. Distantly, they heard River mutter something to herself in exasperation and then the click of the lock and the door creaking open. “What the _hell_ are you doing at my house, Len?”

“I didn’t think it was safe to use a phone,” he admitted. “Can I come in?” 

“If you must,” River sighed, the door closing behind him. “I take it you heard something from Basil?” 

“They didn’t turn anything up in the engineering department, obviously.” 

“Obviously,” River echoed. 

“They’re starting in archeology first thing tomorrow. They’re claiming it’s going to be discreet, but if it’s anything like engineering they’ll be pulling professors out of their classes left and right,” he said. 

“Wonderful,” River breathed, and the Doctor could tell it was strained. 

“It’s going to be humiliating. I know Torres is filing a complaint.” 

“Humiliating?” River scoffed. “I don’t give a damn about humiliating. It’s _damaging_. I fought tooth and nail to rebuild my reputation at Luna, and a stunt like this could drop my enrollment below the requirement,” she argued. The Doctor caught the fam glancing at her and then between themselves, wondering what that meant. She flared her nostrils and chose to ignore it knowing what was coming next. 

“River, your classes are at capacity every semester!” Len pointed out, “People love you.” 

“Right, yes, they love my stories. I’m a good professor. I’m a _great_ archeologist, but they only _listened_ to me when I wasn’t a convicted criminal!” River hissed. Yaz’s eyes shot to the Doctor’s. She mouthed a concerned and confused _criminal?_ and the Doctor winced and tilted her hands side to side to indicate a vague sort of _eh_. Yaz glared at her, and Ryan glanced at Graham with a knowing exasperation entirely unique to them. 

“Then get the artifact off planet or whatever it is you wanted to do with it,” Len reminded her. “You’re not the only one facing prison here, River.” There was a curious silence from the entryway, and the Doctor frowned, straining to listen. 

“Len. How many times do I have to remind you? You're not the one in danger. You had nothing to do with this.” River’s voice was low and warning. 

“But I _did_. I knew about it, River. I knew what you were planning, and I let it happen. I knew you used a vortex manipulator to get the artifact off Ptolem. And I knew you did it so that you could fly back to Luna on the transport ship with the rest of the crew and avoid suspicion.”

“That was for you, you bloody idiot. So _you_ could have some plausible deniability,” River burst. “I told you I’d protect you, but you have to _sell_ it, Len.” 

“I’m not sure I could hold up in an interrogation,” he admitted, his voice shaking. 

“Len, I swear to god. We just have to get through two days. Two days and this is over. I promise. But you have to relax. You have to go home, take a bath, get a good night’s sleep, and go to your class tomorrow like nothing’s wrong.”

“But—” 

“Nothing is wrong, Len,” River cut him off. “Nothing happened on Ptolem, and you have no idea what caused the artron spike.” 

“Nothing...happened.” 

“You’ve got it,” River encouraged. “Now get out of my house.” 

“Wait, River, there’s one more...one more thing,” Len scrambled as River’s front door creaked open. “Basil heard a rumor that they’re starting up patrols tomorrow. Supposedly they’re doing concurrent investigations. The internal one with archeology and an external one looking into non-Lunar criminal activity. Obviously that part doesn’t apply to us.”

“Obviously,” River echoed, but she and the rest of them in the kitchen knew that certainly wasn’t the case. Between the Doctor’s crashed TARDIS and Ptolem’s potential artron weapon, there was quite a bit of non-Lunar criminal activity going on. 

“But the patrols might be an obstacle if you’re trying to take the artifact off Luna. Just...be careful.” 

There was a brief pause. “Goodnight, Len,” River said instead. 

“Night, River.” 

They heard the door close behind him and then the lock click and then River groaning quietly before a muffled, “Fuck,” like she’d said it through her palms. The Doctor was the first to leave the kitchen, watching hesitantly as River walked back into the dining room. 

“River,” the Doctor started, wanting to reassure her. 

“Don’t,” she warned as she pulled the gun from the back of her waistband and set it down on the dining table, lowering herself back into her chair. She scrubbed a hand down her face before resting her cheek in her palm. There was a tinge of fear in her eyes that made the Doctor’s hearts clench and a newfound determination well inside her. There was a long silence, and Graham, Ryan, and Yaz watched from the kitchen as the Doctor sat back down in her seat and began working a little harder than before. “I’m not sure Len can keep it together long enough for me to get the gun back to Ptolem.” 

“For _us_ to get the gun back to Ptolem,” the Doctor corrected. “And he will.” 

“He’s falling apart.” 

“He’ll hold,” the Doctor said more firmly, and River paused, eyeing her. She dropped her hand down to the arm of the chair and cocked her head, a strange calm settling over her. 

“You know, don’t you?” she said softly, and the Doctor felt the tone in the room shift. For the fam, it got tense and alert. For River, it felt resigned. She met River’s eyes and the fear that was simmering behind all that bravery. Fear of that endless, clapping thunder. “You say you’ve followed my career. You must know. It’s in all my biographies,” River mused humorlessly. The Doctor felt a bit sick at the thought. 

“I know that you were in prison, and I know why,” the Doctor answered slowly, carefully. 

“That’s not what I asked,” River countered, almost a challenge, and the Doctor sighed. They both knew what the Doctor was going to say, but she also knew that River needed to hear it out loud, needed to make it real. 

“Taking an artifact without a host planet’s permission is a misdemeanor at worst. But if Luna finds out how you transported the gun...if they get a hold of your vortex manipulator...they can access the logs. They’ll add a criminal charge for every time you’ve used it. You’ll be sent right back to Stormcage,” she admitted reluctantly, and River swallowed, tilting her chin up as Yaz rounded the doorway. 

“You were in Stormcage?” she asked, no doubt recalling Rosa Parks and Krasko the genocidal war criminal. The Doctor saw Ryan and even Graham’s face sour as well, and her hearts sank. This wasn’t how she’d wanted them to find out about that, about any of this. River took a deep breath through her nose and shifted in her seat, blinking rapidly as she turned to face Yaz. 

“Does that frighten you, Yaz?” 

Yaz recoiled a bit, frowning. “No,” she said defensively. 

“Good, then let’s get back to work, shall we?” River breathed as the fam hesitantly returned to their seats. 

However, the Doctor didn’t look away from River for a long time, her brow furrowed tightly. In all the time the Doctor’s known River, she’s never talked about Stormcage as anything more than a passing inconvenience. After all, she’d had her vortex manipulator. She’d been free to come and go as she pleased. Stupid bloody Doctor. She hadn’t really thought about what it must have been like when she was actually there. All those trips and the gallivanting they’d done so that he could try and make up for something unfixable didn’t change the fact that she’d still been locked away in the highest security prison in the universe. 

When the sun had finally set on Darillium, the winds started to pick up. The towers sang sweeter and for longer, but with it came the rainy season. Most planets have one, and on Darillium it came around once every five years. Though the storms set in more quickly and unexpectedly than anything on Earth, and they often lingered for days, bringing with them flash flooding and tornadoes. That particular day the Doctor had been fortunate enough to catch himself stranded in a downpour coming home from the store. 

He stumbled into the house with a bag full of soaking wet produce, the wind blowing the door against the wall as his boots squeaked on the wood floor. He brushed a mop of wet hair back from his forehead and slammed the door shut behind him as another crack of thunder reverberated through the house. And he laughed, in spite of himself, shivering from the cold and soaked to the bone. With a groan, he toed off his boots and practically slid his way to the kitchen to drop off the food. 

“I got the cherries you wanted!” the Doctor called, rivulets of water streaming down over his cheeks. He stripped off his heavy jacket and draped it over the sink to drip. The longer he spent inside the stiffer and colder and more uncomfortable he began to feel. “River?” he asked, rubbing his hands together to generate a little warmth. He certainly didn’t expect River to be at his every beck and call, but he was just a bit surprised not to hear her bubbling laugh at his pitiful state. With a frown, he wandered through the house to the family room. 

The lights were off, but River was sitting in her usual armchair next to the window, staring out into the backyard. He paused in the doorway, watching the trees whip back and forth, leaves swirling in the downpour. River didn’t move, didn’t even seem to know he was there with one leg folded over the other, her chin resting in her palm. She was frighteningly still, and the Doctor knew he was probably making a puddle on the carpet now, but he couldn’t seem to break away, mesmerized by River mesmerized by the storm. Lightning flashed through the room, and he heard River take a sharp breath in, her body tensing. A moment later the thunder sounded, a great booming crack that made the lamp on the table next to her shudder. River jumped, exhaling sharply. And then, to the Doctor’s alarm, she buried her face in her hands, dragging her fingers along her scalp and back through her hair. Hunched over the arm of the chair, curling into herself, the Doctor felt his stomach churn. Lightning flashed again, and the thunder came quicker this time, a rolling boom that made River’s hands tighten into fists around her curls, her legs clenched around each other. 

“River,” the Doctor breathed, walking to stand at her side. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she gasped, springing open and turning to face her attacker. Her eyes were wide and shining with fear, and he caught streaks of tears down her cheeks. When she saw it was him, she deflated, falling against the back of the chair. 

“Jesus Christ,” she breathed, pressing hands to her face and taking a deep breath. “You scared me,” she moaned, her voice stuffy. She tried to sniff discreetly, wiping her cheeks as she let her hands slap against her lap. The Doctor blinked a few times, watching River rapidly try to compose herself. Then he knelt down next to the chair, trying to process the worry he was feeling at his wife’s distress. 

“River, what’s wrong?” 

She acted as though she didn’t hear him, tutting and running her fingers through the hair matted to his head. “Darling, you’re soaking wet.” Lightning flashed, and he felt her still against his scalp. He quickly grabbed her hand and held it tight in his own, kissing her fingers as the thunder hit. Her reaction was remarkably subdued this time around, only her eyelids twitching and a faint shaky exhale at the noise. 

“Why are the lights off?” he asked, cradling her hand in his own. She shook her head, licking her lips. 

“Must have forgotten to turn them on,” she gasped out a laugh, awkwardly forced, and the Doctor gave her the most skeptical look he could muster. Her lips parted, and she searched his eyes, realizing he wasn’t going to let this go. She pulled her hand back and sighed, shaking her head as she stared intently at her knuckles. “The storms were always worse at night,” she admitted with a helpless, strained smile. “And my vortex manipulator. The atmosphere got so...electrically charged, it...it couldn’t break through the cloud cover. The guards. They knew,” she paused, scoffing. “Probably why they built Stormcage where they did. Keeps criminals like me from doing what we do best.” She said it mirthlessly, and the Doctor’s hearts sank to his stomach. 

“River, they didn’t…” 

“God, no. Stormcage falls under the Shadow Proclamation’s jurisdiction, and they have _very_ strict humanitarian edicts,” River assured him with a laugh and a furious shake of her head. Somehow, it didn’t quell his anxiety. “Psychological torture, however, falls into more of a gray area,” she said pointedly, almost ironically, and though she was looking at the Doctor now, her eyes were glazed, her expression blank. 

“If I had known…” he started with a shake of his head, not sure what else to say in the moment. River grabbed his hand, her face screwed up tightly. 

“Even if you had, there was nothing you could have done, my love.” 

“If that’s supposed to make me feel better about...well, _anything_ , I’d like you to know that it’s not working,” he told her, and she sighed, pressing her lips together. 

“Really, Doctor, I’m okay. I’m fine. You just...caught me in a bad moment,” she shook her head, her voice gentle and reassuring, and truly that was the part that frightened him the most. 

“In what _universe…_ ” he started, his voice rising. Then he stopped, sighing and collecting his thoughts. “You don’t have to pretend to be fine all the time anymore, River. All I want is to be here for you. However you need me,” he breathed, searching her eyes for understanding. River swallowed, her face falling into a frown. “Okay?” She nodded wordlessly, her eyes shining. 

“Yeah, okay,” she choked, and the Doctor shuffled closer to pull River into a hug. She sniffled, burying her face into the crook of his neck, lips pressed to the cold skin there. “Sweetie,” she said, voice muffled. He hummed. “You’re soaking through my clothes.” He pulled away as if he’d been burned, and she laughed, wiping her eyes again as she stood up, pulling the Doctor to his feet with her. “Let’s get you out of those before you catch a cold. I’ll get a fire going, hmm?” 

He smiled, soft and warm enough to make him forget about the goose bumps prickling his skin, and leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Sounds perfect.” 

In River’s kitchen, the five of them had settled into a focused sort of quiet, her fam chatting idly between the silence while the two of them worked. The Doctor wanted so badly to walk over to River and pull her into a tight hug, speckling kisses across her cheeks and her nose and her chin. She wanted to press their foreheads together and tell her that everything was going to be okay, that she’d make sure of it. Though her promises always had a way of falling flat with River. Security had never been their strong suit as a couple, be it physically or emotionally. Looking back, she regretted all those silly moments she’d tried to make it better with a boop to her nose and a mournful smile. She wished she could have been more genuine if honesty was too much of a spoiler, or vulnerable when frustration was too isolating. 

River set down her tools, leaning back in her chair, presumably done working on the de-escalators. The Doctor glanced up to find River watching her. “Shall we?” she asked and the Doctor nodded, pushing back her own chair and standing up with her regulator. 

“Done already?” Graham asked, watching as the Doctor handed River her work. 

“Have to calibrate the regulator so we know how to set the parameters of the containment field,” she explained as River led her down the hall back to her study. They gave her mildly concerned looks, but the Doctor shot them two thumbs up before tripping over her own feet trying to keep up with River backwards. 

“And here I thought they were starting to like me,” she breathed once they were in the study. The Doctor bit her lip as River took down the painting again. 

“I mean, Stormcage does have a bit of a reputation…” she trailed off as River shot daggers at her, “but, you know, I’m sure they’ll come ‘round,” she nodded, pursing her lips. “Anyway, I didn’t think you cared about that?” 

“Oh, I don’t,” River assured, turning the dial. “But I can see that you do.” Before the Doctor could get defensive, River opened the safe door and stuffed the de-escalator and regulator inside for what felt like an eternity. The Doctor’s whole body buzzed, and she saw River clenching her jaw. Then she pulled her arm back out and closed the safe, spinning the dial. A light on each part glowed yellow, telling them that they were properly calibrated for the gun. “I should warn you. I’m not like the stories you’ve heard,” River said, and the Doctor met her eyes. She only saw her as an admirer, a fan, and it really shouldn’t have made the Doctor’s hearts sink considering the circumstances. 

“So I’m gathering,” she offered. “Your measurements do get a bit skewed the longer the game of biographical telephone you play,” she mused, and a smile cracked on River’s face, her eyes raking over the Doctor. 

“Let me guess, the hair grows proportionally to the girls, inverse, of course, to the waist. Does my gun get bigger when women write my biography or is it just with the men?” she mused, taking a step closer to the Doctor who swallowed, her face flushing. Admittedly, she’d taken a chance with the telephone comment. She should have expected retaliation.

“I, uh…” the Doctor stumbled, a flush rising to her cheeks. 

“Shh,” River hushed. “The moment’s passed, dear.” She strode passed her back down the hallway, and the Doctor had to remember to close her mouth before following. When she made it back to the kitchen in a hopping jog, River was already packing up her things. “I do have class tomorrow morning, but I expect you’ll be back here in the afternoon with the power source for the containment field?” River inquired, and the Doctor blinked, opening and closing her mouth at River’s stark change of tone. She’d suddenly created a secret between them, a harmless little thing, and the Doctor’s head was spinning too fast to process what that meant. 

“‘Course, right, yeah. Shouldn’t be an issue,” she breathed, stuffing her hands deep into her pockets. 

“You alright?” Yaz asked from her chair, and the Doctor raised her brow, pressing her lips together as she struggled to take her eyes off River. 

“Hmm? Yeah, ‘m fine,” she nodded too quickly as her fam got up. Graham clapped her lightly on the back, a faint smirk on his lips, and the Doctor’s head twitched, frowning. She wanted to correct Graham’s assumption, but the moment ended and someone else was talking. 

“What about Dr. Staves?” Ryan asked, “should we talk to her? For real this time. I mean, she’s clearly planning something.” 

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” River countered. “As much as I...appreciate the assistance,” she blinked slowly, the words difficult for her. “I think it’s best to keep you four out of this as much as possible. I’m not sure what she wants, and I don’t want her to feel threatened. Anyway, I have a feeling she’ll be the one coming to me,” River breathed, leading them to the front door. “In the meantime, I’ll do some research into the excavation site. Hopefully it’ll be able to tell us a little more about what we’re dealing with.” 

“Goodnight, River,” the Doctor said on her doorstep. River’s fingers curled delicately around the door, and she smiled down at her. 

“Goodnight, Jane.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to hear your thoughts!


End file.
